


One Foot in Front of the Other

by galliechan



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assistant Coach!Kuroko, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-01-17 21:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12374808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galliechan/pseuds/galliechan
Summary: After his defeat, everything yet nothing changed. Except Kuroko-san.





	1. Enter the Phantom

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Kuroko no Basket manga is the property of its creator, Tadatoshi Fujimaki. The other Kuroko no Basket media is property of their authorised owners. These stories are created by the author. All original settings, characters, etc., remain the property of the author.
> 
> Author’s Note: This is a story that has been in preparation for years and finally I found motivation to publish it. This will also be my first long-story so, wish me tenacity (first ingredient for a writer) and patience (for editing it).
> 
> I hope you guys would like it. I will try to update it regularly, once a month.

 

One Foot in Front of the Other

A Kuroko no Basket fanfiction

by Galliechan

© Copyright 2017

Enter the Phantom

 

“Mayuzumi-san.”

He looked up from his book and scowled. “It’s you? It is -san now that the original phantom player is back, huh. Why are you here instead of gushing over him?”

“We will start training with Kuroko-san next week. The casualness was only as captain during extracurriculars. We’re just a first year and third year now.” Akashi nodded at Mayuzumi-san. ”Thank you for all the hard work until now.”

“Sure.”

“Was it all right? Not attending.”

He barked a laugh, “Who cares? Did anyone remember the copycat with the original around?”

“You were our teammate -“

“Yeah, yeah, save me the speech. Especially coming from you. Hah.”

He stiffened, “I thought we -“

“I have no attachment to the team itself. Not like I had any particularly good memories either. But the last year wasn’t all that bad, thanks to you.” 

“Right,” he swallowed.

“So until I graduate, leave me alone. If we talk normally after all this, it kinda doesn’t look cool and stuff.”

Mayuzumi-san returned to his book.

Akashi was dismissed. 

He narrowed his eyes -

(Who was he to dismiss Akashi?)

\- until he remembered who he was dealing with. Mayuzumi-san was going to graduate in a few weeks, not to see Akashi again in his life. 

They had a deal. Why did he enter the team, if not to play? If not to win?

Did he think he could achieve victory without giving all he had? That only misdirection would be enough? That he had to keep his part of the deal only until his misdirection ran out?

If Kagami’s momentary glance was his worth, Akashi would use it. If being the fifth member for perfect rhythm was his worth, Akashi would use it. 

(Akashi knew only the main line-up good enough to create the perfect rhythm with them.)

(It wasn't enough. Not for victory.)

Akashi looked at Mayuzumi-san when he turned a page. He didn't read at this pace. He still had a finger marking his previous page. 

He agreed to be used until he was used. 

Akashi turned to leave. 

He wasn’t willing to swim through Mayuzumi-san’s bitterness to seek forgiveness for an issue he had already apologized for. 

He preferred to choose his battles. 

—————

“I don’t understand why we need an assistant coach when we have you, Sei-chan,” Mibuchi said, crossing his arms behind his head and looking at the ceiling. Their steps echoed in the empty corridor. “Though I am curious about what a graduate can do.”

“Coach Shirogane chose him. He must trust him.”

“Coach Shirogane trusts you. This one won’t even come every day - only two days of the week,” he tutted. 

Akashi was silent. He knew that preparing training programs was the assistant coach’s job while scheduling practice games were the coach’s. Akashi has been doing them since his last year in middle school. He learned that when it came to him, job descriptions could loosen a little and his teachers always trusted him more than should be to a student. 

Akashi had always been victorious. He learned to carry its burden as well.

Changing Sato-san right after Akashi’s defeat didn’t sit well with him. Would Akashi be trusted no more?

“And another phantom player, can you believe it, Sei-chan?”

“Mayuzumi-san called him the original one.”

“He might be better then.”

“Mayuzumi-san has better statistics than Kuroko-san,” he said. Mibuchi groaned. “Kuroko-san has little stamina and lower than average physical strengths. Yet he captained the Rakuzan team and won three consecutive championships.”

Mibuchi glanced at him. “You will accept him?”

“He is our assistant coach, chosen by our coach.”

He hummed. 

Then hummed again, playing with a hair lock. Akashi slowed down to put distance between them and then took a step to the side.

Mibuchi closed his eyes before flicking his hair. He put his arms on his imaginary partner’s waist and shoulder, and swirled.

Akashi walked to the door before resuming his watch. It was a perfect ballroom waltz, this time. 

After one last swirl, he opened his arms wide and shouted: “Sei-chan will always be the number one in my heart!”

To the wall. 

Akashi glanced at his watch - they had one minute to spare. Thirty seconds in, he cleared his throat. He turned back to the door when Mibuchi jumped to his feet.

Ten seconds left, he raised his fist. Five seconds left, Mibuchi appeared next to him, straightening his hair.

Right on time, he knocked.

Coach Shirogane was sitting at the head of the table. The club room looked as how Akashi left it yesterday: Clean, pristine and orderly. No sign of a prior meeting the Coach was supposed to have with the assistant coach.

Who wasn’t at the table.

Akashi looked into Coach Shirogane’s eyes, gave a small bow with “Good morning Coach.” After Coach’s nod, he scanned the room.

Kuroko-san was nowhere to be seen.

Akashi took one step into the room and stopped. Mibuchi had to slide between him and the door frame to greet the Coach. 

Akashi looked around again and again. 

Kuroko-san wasn’t in the room. Yet Akashi knew Coach Shirogane: He wouldn’t start a meeting without all the members present, wouldn’t come early to wait for them and wouldn’t trust someone who came late or made him wait.

He shivered.

“Good morning Kuroko-san,” he called to the room, much like calling a ghost.

“Good morning Akashi-kun, Mibuchi-kun.” 

A man appeared on the empty seat at Coach Shirogane’s right.

Akashi knew his expression didn’t change, but he couldn’t stop his hands from jerking.

Mibuchi shrieked.

Akashi didn’t take his eyes off Kuroko-san until he took his seat in front of him. His expression didn’t change at their surprise or Akashi’s staring. It showed nothing.

It seemed that getting used to Mayuzumi-san’s presence wouldn't gain them any advantage in their interactions with Kuroko-san. The man who introduced misdirection to basketball; the infamous phantom player.

As soon as Mibuchi took his seat, Coach Shirogane started the meeting.

“Next year, we will have different people for two key positions on our team, our manager, and assistant coach. Manager Higuchi won’t take part in club activities anymore. Captain Akashi, I want you to take over the new manager’s training.”

Akashi nodded.

“You have until the end of the term to get used to Assistant Coach Kuroko’s training style. I want especially the starting lineup to get acquainted with him. It is your job, Captain.”

Akashi nodded.

“You will continue your responsibilities as usual until the end of the term. Assistant Coach Kuroko will observe team dynamics and players in the meantime. Any changes, we will discuss later.”

Akashi nodded.

He was still trusted. At least until the new term.

He had to gain Kuroko-san’s trust until then.

“Does Assistant Coach Kuroko have anything to add?”

“Let’s work hard together.”

“Does Captain Akashi have anything to add?”

“Is Kuroko-san available after the practice to meet with the lineup?”

“We can meet then.”

Akashi nodded. “I don’t have anything else to add.”

Shirogane-san stood up. They stood up after him. “The meeting is over. Captain, start the practice.”

Akashi nodded and left the room, Mibuchi behind him. On the way to the gym, with two long strides, he reached next to him.

“They gave you more jobs, Sei-chan. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Thank you for your concern, I can manage them, Mibuchi.”

“Of course it is my concern, I am your vice-captain,” he huffed.

And can do at least one thing that his previous vice-captain couldn’t. “Can you warn Hayama and Nebuya about our meeting with Kuroko-san?”

“You give the hardest jobs to me, Sei-chan.” Akashi opened his mouth to take it back, “Consider it done,” he winked.

Akashi nodded.

—————

Rakuzan basketball team had low acceptance rates, as befitting its elite name, and with the third years gone for the exams, their squeaking shoes echoed sadly in the half-empty gym. It took manic levels of enthusiasm from Hayama and many loud “Muscle” cries of Nebuya to motivate the team. 

Akashi would give motivational speeches but mindless exclamations to fire up the team wasn’t his style. Nor was it Coach Shirogane’s style.

Akashi never expected it from Kuroko-san, the phantom. 

(The hype about him died already. Was it his weak presence? How can a fan not notice that he stood a few steps next to idol?)

Misdirection depended on forgetting the player. Mayuzumi-san did it by ignoring others, in turn being ignored himself. It seemed like Kuroko-san did it simply by being silent.

It was disturbing how many times he had to remind himself there was someone next to the Coach. That Shirogane-san wasn’t talking to midair. 

He still jerked when Kuroko-san appeared next to him after the practice.

He mollified himself that it was nothing compared to Hayama, Mibuchi and Nebuya’s reactions. Once they calmed down, they took their place one step behind Akashi. He watched as Kuroko-san studied at each of the Generals before focusing on Akashi. He didn’t take his eyes off the emotionless stare until Kuroko-san turned around and started walking. They followed. 

In the club room, Akashi took his usual seat: Left of Coach Shirogane’s place at the head of the table. The Generals sat next to him, starting with Mibuchi. Kuroko-san, who waited until all of them were seated to move towards the table, took place in front of Akashi.

He, carefully, didn’t show any satisfaction.

“I wanted Captain Akashi to arrange this meeting with the lineup to get to know them.” He nodded at the Generals before focusing back to Akashi. “We shall start with Akashi-kun. Why did you start playing basketball?”

Such an interview question.

“I saw kids playing on a street court when I was young. It looked fun.”

Kuroko-san nodded. “What about now?”

Akashi paused. “I don’t understand the question,” he said.

“I mean, why are you playing basketball now, Akashi-kun?”

He hesitated. He could feel Mibuchi and the others turning to look at him when he didn’t give a smooth answer at once.

He had answers. The one he gave to his team, the one he used to give to his middle school team. The one his coach wanted to hear and the one his father wanted to hear. And the one he repeated in front of the mirror, over and over, to himself.

Which one did Kuroko-san want?

He shouldn’t have waited for a simple answer. In a few seconds, Mibuchi was going to ask ‘Sei-chan?’, Hayama was going start blabbering, Nebuya would huff, and they would try to change the subject. In front of them, he should give the team’s answer, right? But what if Kuroko-san carried it to the Coach? Would they see the difference - of course, they would. What would they do? 

(He got defeated. He needed to earn their trust back.)

Time was ticking. A captain shouldn’t show hesitancy, victory comes with certain steps. 

He opened his mouth -

“Sei-chan?” Mibuchi said.

“Akashi is the best -“ Hayama started.

“It’s alright,” Kuroko-san interrupted, his eyes blank but intent on Akashi. “I am not going to judge you, I just want to know you. I can see this question upset you Akashi-kun, but it is so important that I can’t take it back. I can only offer to ask in private.”

“I don’t want to hide anything from them.”

Kuroko-san brightened.

Oh. Team player. 

Logical, after his game in the finals.

(He needed to find another trigger to get into the zone.)

He knew Kuroko-san’s answer.

(He could have gone with the Generals’.)

Start with the reason for his hesitancy. A typical story. Avoid eye contact and bite lips. “In middle school, my team consisted of talented individuals that didn’t bother with team play.” Show sincerity, look into his eyes. “It wasn’t right.” A heartbeat. Lean forward and, “high school is my new beginning. I want to be part of a real team with my brilliant teammates. This is the reason I play basketball.”

At cue - 

“Sei-chan!”

“Akashi, you are the best!”

“Hah! You do good.”

Akashi nodded at them without taking his eyes off Kuroko-san.

Did he pass the test?

“Good reason,” he said. Then he turned to Mibuchi and changed the subject.

For all his silent demeanor, Kuroko-san maneuvered rest of the conversation with ease to keep it light, interactive and informative. At the end of the hour, Nebuya talked about his sumo wrestling, Hayama about skateboarding and his sisters and Mibuchi about the random stuff he bought at his last shopping spree. Then promised them a tarot reading. Even Akashi talked about Yukimaru and some of the go tournaments he entered.

The Generals were laughing and talking to each other when they left the club room. Kuroko-san caught his eye before he joined them.

“You coming, Akashi?”

“I will catch you at the gates,” he called before closing the door. Kuroko-san stood in front of him.

He knew what was coming.

“Good reason but it is not yours,” he said.

Akashi remained silent. Made sure his expression didn’t show anything.

“Because someone with such a reason wouldn’t behave like you did in the finals. Actions show our intentions better than words.” He waited. Akashi didn’t react. “I don’t know what made you hesitate, but it doesn’t show in your captaincy.”

“I am the rightful captain as long as I am the best.” He looked straight into Kuroko-san’s eyes. “I am the best.”

“You are,” he said. “You are also growing, which you can do easier without your title. Do you like being the captain?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. “I like leading the team.”

Kuroko-san paused. His stare was dissecting yet dispassionate.

“You like the responsibility.”

“Yes.”

“Even when their eccentrics need special attention?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said slowly. 

Kuroko-san sent him a knowing look.

The only captain to show empathy towards him was Nijimura-sempai. 

Kuroko-san had also been a captain. Of Rakuzan.

He looked into his eyes and nodded. Then nodded again.

“You are a good captain and player. You don’t need to lie to me.”

How straightforward. He could see why Coach Shirogane liked Kuroko-san.

On the other hand, did he expect Akashi to apologize? How bothersome.

Kuroko-san bowed his head. “I apologize for delving into a private subject and upsetting you. It was never my intention.” 

Akashi jerked a step back.

“I am sorry,” he yelped and then bowed from the waist down. “It is just  - you know - I used basketball for victory. Then I lost, yet I am still playing, because - well - I don’t want to give it up. But now I also don’t have a reason.”

“I don’t know is always an answer.”

Akashi took a deep breath to regain his calm. 

(How unfitting.)

Kuroko-san waited.

Akashi wanted to scream, carve his intent stare off his face and choke him with his kind voice. He also wanted to thank him.

“I would like to know your answer when you find it.”

He nodded.

“I see that Akashi-kun is a private person. Would your teammates ask about our meeting?”

“I would answer them.”

“Let’s give them a basketball related answer. I am planning a mini-tournament to have an idea about next term’s fifth man. It would also motivate the team. What do you think?”

He answered affirmative, but his stomach churned.

Akashi didn’t need help. As warming as it was.

—————

Hayama’s cackling warned Akashi of the scene he would find when he approached the school gates: Mibuchi and Nebuya were arguing about their lunch place. 

(Their restaurant choices told so much about their personalities that Kuroko-san could have just asked it instead of talking with them for an hour.)

Akashi chose Hisako’s Ramen Place over Le Creme Bordeaux. Mibuchi whined about Nebuya’s food taste until they started bickering again. Hayama’s complaint about his hunger flew over their heads. 

“It is about style, I tell you. Soft music and delightful food.”

“You will love the ramen. It is good.”

“It is about presentation!”

“You will eat it anyway.” 

_“Look at yourself, is this how you represent the basketball team?”_

_“Boring. Don’t they eat?”_

_“They don’t eat snacks, nanodayo! Kise, don’t encourage him!”_

_“They are just snacks-ssu!”_

“Nebuya, let’s arrange good looking ramen to Reo-nee-san!”

Akashi barely stepped over a stumble. He shivered as a sudden coldness spread his insides. 

They were still on his mind. 

“Stop calling me that!”

“Reo-nee! Reo-nee!”

“You little lightning beastie!”

He knew seeing and speaking to them at the Winter Cup wouldn’t be good for him, although all it amounted was some taunts and a declaration of war.

Wasn’t it ironic that none of them won the war?

(And that his hateful defeat was more stabilizing than their presences?)

“Muscle!”

“What is this nonsense shouting for?”

“Why muscle?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I like muscles.”

“How is that a reason!”

Akashi took a deep breath and released his bitterness with it. His middle school teammates were the past. It was over.

Look ahead. 

(You are an Akashi.)

He was going to crush them with his new teammates.

“Is this the place, Nebuya?”

Their bickering stopped mid-sentence. Nebuya gruffed affirmative. Akashi entered, the rest followed behind him, finally silent.

“What did Kuroko-san want to talk about?” Mibuchi asked when they finished eating.

“Was it about...that question?” Hayama added.

He didn’t want to hide anything from them.

At the final game, he hadn’t trusted them, preferred to play on his own, only to stumble and fall. Instead of kicking him when he was down, they had accepted and relied on him to play like a team. In the end, even with their faith on his side, he still hadn’t brought them victory. Because they didn’t abandon him, he owed them the truth.

Yet, he was a private person and this was too…personal. 

He was both thankful and cursing that Kuroko-san gave him an easy way out.

“I explained my answer.”

“It didn’t need explanation -“

“We will be a team like you imagine -“

“Then we talked about preparing a tournament within the team.”

A moment of silence.

“Yay! A tournament!”

“What are the rules? Five people teams? Will Sei-chan play? Ah, so exciting!”

“Muscle! Tournament!” Then he burped.

Mibuchi made a horrified gasp, started chastising Nebuya while Hayama made an exclamation at the number of bowls Nebuya has eaten and started making towers with them. They grinned at each other as Mibuchi tried to take them off his hands without stopping his monologue.

Akashi leaned back and watched them.


	2. What you want, What you need

Kuroko-san acted faster than Akashi expected and one day later, the team was getting ready for a tournament.

Akashi led the buzzing team through their warm-up run and sketches, then went to Coach Shirogane and Kuroko-san to receive further instructions.

The coach was standing a step back; today’s trainer was Kuroko-san. He was bouncing from one foot to the other and the little papers in the bowl he was holding moved with him. He extended the bowl to Akashi but hesitated midway. 

“Shirogane-san said that you preferred to observe in some practices. Would you like to play or sit in this one?”

“Whichever one you would prefer.”

Kuroko-san blinked and pulled the bowl back. “Either is fine with me. Which one do you want?”

“If I join, the numbers wouldn’t be enough for five-people teams. And the winner would be obvious. It might discourage players and work against our intention of raising morale and finding the fifth man.”

“So, you don’t want to play?”

“It is the most logical choice.”

Kuroko-san stilled. His stare gained its dissecting property from yesterday’s conversation.

“We can change the rules to manage the numbers,” he dismissed the argument. “I doubt any Rakuzan player would give up against a strong opponent. In contrast, playing with you might encourage them. You said you were the best, so, playing with you must also be the best. You would also get to show your respect for them.”

“I respect them,” he stated, straightening.

“Yes,” he replied. 

Akashi’s gaze moved to Coach Shirogane, who listened to their conversation without any sign of his thoughts, then went over the team, playing with each other while waiting. His eyes snapped back to calm blue ones when he noticed his relapse, but he swallowed a few times before asking, “Does Kuroko-san want me to play?”

“Does Akashi-kun want to play?”

“But whether I play or not changes the winner,” he said, his voice halting. It was the wrong answer, but he didn’t see Kuroko-san’s point. 

“Yes. It doesn’t affect the tournament’s purpose though.”

“Morale and potential,” he said, doubtful. 

Kuroko-san nodded. “Playing with you might intimidate or hearten them. Fired up, some might perform better; discouraged, some might give up. You have logical arguments for both options, but in the end, you can’t calculate their responses, so you have the freedom to do what you want.”

Want? It echoed in Akashi’s mind. He did the logical, the closest route to success. He created strategies and tactics; he observed, collected data and lead his team to victory. It was his responsibility to the team as its captain, to his coach who made him captain in his first year, to the school that gave him a scholarship and to his father who allowed him to spend his time on basketball.

He looked at Coach Shirogane, but he was looking at Kuroko-san. Akashi directed his question to Kuroko-san with a heavy heart.

“What do you want me to do about the fifth man?”

“Nothing,” Kuroko-san said. Akashi crumpled his training shorts in his hand instead of flinching.

(They don’t need you. You got defeated - )

“You only need to be yourself,” Kuroko-san’s clear voice cut through his thoughts. Akashi swayed and took a deep, albeit hitched, breath. Kuroko-san continued as if he didn’t notice any of his reactions, “the fifth man needs to be able to adapt to Akashi-kun’s plays after all.”

His eyes briefly closed as he gave a long exhale. He relaxed his hand, then his shoulders. 

Kuroko-san’s voice was as kind as yesterday when he said, “Again, the choice is yours.” 

Akashi watched the team, players leisurely dribbling around impromptu one-of-ones and shooting practices. Some were smiling from excitement while some were frowning in determination. They didn’t need any logical reason to play.

Could he be like them? Even if it was only for this tournament?

His heart beat faster while a lightness spread to his body.

“I would like to play.”

Kuroko-san’s smile was minuscule, but his eyes sparkled when he offered the bowl to Akashi. He gave an equally small smile back as he picked a random team inside.

Hayama whooped at the other side of the gym.

Akashi’s teammates were two first years and two second years. He knew their names, sibling and best friends’ names, favorite subjects, lowest exam grades, reasons for playing basketball, the combos that best utilized their strengths, weaknesses they worked the most against, specific attack patterns and defensive maneuvers. 

It didn’t change the fact that three of them were shooting guards. 

“Our defense is weak,” he stated to the eager faces looking at him, “but we won’t let our opponents to use it. They will drown under our threes,” the shooting guards straightened, “and attacks,” their power forward nodded. Then he frowned. Akashi wondered whether it was determination or an attempt to hide his twitching lips.

Like dominoes, all their lips started twitching and curled into broad grins. Akashi felt one of his eyebrows rise when one of the first years covered his face with his hands. His murmur of “a real pep talk from the captain!” met with a giggle from their power forward.

Akashi entered a tournament with these four players for the first time, so they never had a reason to listen to his preparation talks beforehand - that was true. On the other hand, the team had listened to his various motivational speeches.

“Our first opponent team has Mibuchi,” he trailed down.

Did they know the difference between Heaven, Earth, and Oblivion shoots? He recoiled at the thought of explaining it. Maybe he should just…win the game. 

(It was only one General and four bench-warmers.)

“Captain?”

His team had calmed down, except for their too bright eyes. And one of them seemed to be trembling. 

(Zone vs. Perfect Rhythm. He learned his lesson.)

“I am not the captain in this tournament, just a player.” He paused as he looked each of them in the eye, “who trusts his teammates.”

One of the first years puffed his chest out with a blush while a second year rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Do you know how to recognize between Heaven, Earth and Oblivion shoots?”

They nodded. “In theory, never played against it.”

He released a breath. That was a weight off his shoulders. “Good enough.”

It was. For an elite Rakuzan player.

They were a team of elite players against another.

He felt his lips curling into a smile as his pulse fastened.

It has been some time since he felt like this.

————

“Maybe, we shouldn’t have played full-time games,” was Kuroko-san’s meeting opening.

Coach Shirogane chuckled.

Akashi didn’t react because he was eating the vending machine snacks that Kuroko-san bought him. (Too much carbohydrate, no protein at all and what is that fat number? Decimal mistake? He was beyond caring.)

Kuroko-san cleared his throat and arranged his notes again.

“There was a good Italian restaurant down the street, is it still around?”

Akashi nodded. Mibuchi loved that place.

“Let’s do our meeting there,” Kuroko-san offered.

Coach Shirogane looked at the setting sun. “My wife and kids are waiting me for dinner.”

“We would keep it short,” Kuroko-san said as he glanced at Akashi before throwing a meaningful look at the Coach.

Akashi threw all the snack wrappings on the table to his lap with a glare at Kuroko-san. After he swallowed his half-chewed cracker, he turned to Coach Shirogane and pulled out his notebook, getting ready for the meeting. 

“Have you prepared your food?” Coach Shirogane asked. 

“I will, after our meeting.”

Coach stood up. “We will do our meeting at the restaurant.”

Akashi nodded. He collected his notebook with his head bowed, feeling his ears burn. When he crumpled the snack wrappings, his fists were trembling. 

Kuroko-san took the empty juice box before he crushed it too. 

“Akashi-kun lives in the dormitories and prepares his own meals?”

He nodded, refusing to look at the man. Yes, the Akashi conglomerate heir does his own cooking and shopping, along with cleaning and laundry. He waited for the regular horrified exclamation. 

“And, on Sundays?” Kuroko-san asked, halting. Akashi raised his head, curious. “I mean, you cook for the week, on Sundays?”

“Yes,” he said. Kuroko-san continued staring at him, still leaning over the table and holding the juice box. Akashi frowned, “I do my shopping and cooking after Sunday practices.”

He winced. “You must also have homework, and I didn’t notify you of the tournament; we just decided with Shirogane-san.” He gave a sigh, rubbed the back of his neck before giving a small smile to Akashi. “I can’t allow you to cook while hungry. We are going to eat pizza, my treat. It is the least I can do.”

Akashi swallowed. Pizza sounded great.

“Kuroko-san doesn’t need to do anyth -“

“Don’t defend me,” he said, “I am sorry.”

“Right - no - thank -“ he choked and jumped from his seat, clutching his bag full of snack wrappers. His ears began to burn again when he remembered who bought all those snacks. 

Why would a teacher apologize to a student - twice in two days! - and treat him to dinner? What was Kuroko-san trying to accomplish?

Earning Akashi’s trust?

(How ridiculous. He only needed to command.)

Kuroko-san threw the juice box to the trash can, turned towards the door and groaned. It was open, Akashi noticed with a jerk. And Coach Shirogane has left. 

His chest tightened. Was Akashi too slow? Did he misheard somethi -

Kuroko-san chuckled. “He can’t be at the restaurant yet. Let’s catch him, Akashi-kun!”

They found Coach near the school gates, walking at a brisk pace. Kuroko-san joined him with a “Shirogane-san is as impatient as ever.” Akashi followed a step behind.

Coach raised an eyebrow. “I’ve waited years to get you as my assistant coach.”

“Akashi-kun’s father is to blame.”

Eh?

Coach’s eyebrow rose higher.

“Akashi-kun’s father’s holding’s sub-company is to blame?” He looked over his shoulder at Akashi, “you are my future boss.”

Akashi stumbled. 

He barely managed to perceive his shock before he was hit by the restaurant’s scents: Garlic bread and freshly baked pizza. He could emphasize with Nebuya’s hunger for the first time in his life.

Kuroko-san ordered for them without looking at the menu and one extra for the Coach’s wife and kids. He pushed the bread and olive oil towards Akashi before taking out his notes.

He moved the bread plate to the side and opened his notebook in front of him, disgusted at the state of his bag. 

“The tournament was a success,” Kuroko-san started, “if the morale would keep high in the upcoming weeks is yet to be seen.”

“It would,” Coach said. “The team is strong; the line-up is spirited and their captain, confident.”

“Yes, the team was happy to see Akashi-kun winning the tournament.” 

Akashi blinked. “I didn’t notice anybody holding back for me to win.”

“Nobody did, yet you still won. It encourages them.”

“I don’t understand,” he said slowly.

Coach stared into his eyes, considering. Akashi waited without blinking.

“In your teammates’ eyes, you represent the elite Rakuzan player,” he stated. “The perfect player who is the strongest, the Miracle without any defeats.” Akashi’s stomach tensed. He clutched his seat and looked down at the table, wishing he never opened up the subject. Coach continued, his voice hard. “In the Winter Cup finals, we lost. It happens, and we need to move on - except you also got defeated. Your attacks were nullified and plan spoiled; this destroyed the morale.” Akashi nodded, this throat thick. When Coach tapped the bread plate, he straightened and took one without looking. 

In his whole school life, people looked up to him as a role model. This was the same.

(It felt heavier.)

“You won today. You are still the most powerful of them.”

He frowned. “But I got defeated,” he said. “The most powerful wasn’t enough.”

Coach Shirogane shook his head. “It is, for your team.”

“Is it?” he trailed off.

Coach threw a look at Kuroko-san. He nodded back and cleared his throat. 

“Akashi-kun, do you remember Seirin and Kaijo’s game at the semi-finals?” he asked, his expression blank yet eyes serious.

He nodded and readied his pencil.

“Did you notice how the team’s morale increased when Kise-kun entered the game?”

Kise with his bright grins, happy-go-lucky attitude, fangirls - and Perfect Copy. He had used all their signature moves, even the Emperor Eye. The Ultimate Miracle. 

“Yes.”

“No. You know Kise-kun from middle school, right? It is not about personality.” Akashi focused back on him. “You can also think of Aomine-kun and Touou or Kagami-kun and Seirin. When they enter the game, the whole team brightens. Seirin based their final chance for victory at the finals on Kagami-kun’s idea, Touou looks out for every tick and blink of Aomine-kun to determine his mood. It is the same for you, Akashi-kun. You are Rakuzan’s ace.”

“But I don’t score the most points,” Akashi said, his voice faltering.

Hayama did. In some matches, Mibuchi did. Both looked up to Akashi.

The whole team looked up to Akashi.

Because he was the captain.

“You are the ace, and the captain, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko-san said, his serious expression melting into gentleness. “The team cheers up when they see you getting over your defeat.”

Akashi remembered how the stands screamed Aomine’s name in Teiko. It was his fall that had started the team’s dissolving. Akashi had to create point games and ridiculous rules to motivate him, to make it seem like he was playing with all his might. He also recalled Kise started challenging Aomine to his ace title then and Aomine had protected it with a vigor he never showed in his games. In one game Aomine was unable to play, Kise had preened, preened and preened.

Was Akashi like that? But he was the captain, who was left to spoil him?

”You are the number one in my heart, Sei-chan!”

Mibuchi.

The Generals.

Were the Saturday lunches, waiting at the gates and visiting his dorm their pampering? They did it for the team morale?

“I want to be the captain, nothing more.”

“Rakuzan is lucky to have you, both as a captain and as its ace, Akashi-kun.”

“Right,” he said, looking down at his hands, still holding his pencil over the empty page. His chest felt heavy, so he took deep breaths -

(Would they spend time with him if he wasn’t the ace?)

He startled when a plate touched his hand. Kuroko-san pushed it again when Akashi made no move to take the bread on it.

“Eat up, a piece of bread wouldn’t make you fat,” he said, eyes too intent for his light tone. “We should take care of our ace.”

Akashi winced. With reluctance, he tore off a piece of bread and started chewing it.

Kuroko-san was watching him, he noted with a shiver. 

Who was Kuroko-san, if not a master observer? He was able to use sleight-of-hand tricks in a contact sport. His basketball moves depended on high-level observation and constant awareness of his surroundings. He was forgotten as he studied his interest; he reminded himself to shock and watch the reactions. 

He was dangerous.

This was enough. Akashi wouldn’t lower his guard next to him again.

He raised his chin and directed his steely-eyed glare to the blue ones.

(Lower your head.)

Kuroko-san’s eyes stayed on his for a heartbeat before they slid to the side. 

“Pizza!” he cheered with all his attention on the food.

Akashi glanced at Coach Shirogane. He was looking at the waiter, as if unaware of what happened between him and Kuroko-san.

As if, Akashi scoffed.

He watched Kuroko-san. No exchange of looks between him and Coach. This wasn’t planned, or was it prepared beforehand?

What was going on?

But first: Food.

It smelled so good; Akashi bit his lip as his stomach grumbled.


	3. Tricks and Study Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akashi liked plain food and plain matches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to shorten the chapters since I didn't want you to wait another month for 500 words. I am hopeful that I can go along with this schedule.

Tricks and study notes

Akashi ate his pizza in record time. He was drinking his second glass of water when Coach Shirogane finished his meal. He resumed the meeting without waiting for Kuroko-san. As if this was an usual occurrence, Kuroko-san opened his notes next to his plate.

“Any potential fifth players?”

Kuroko-san nodded as he swallowed his bite. “Center. Lanky, flecked face, black hair and eyes.”

“Hideo, second year,” Akashi said.

“Not Nebuya but better than the rest,” Coach Shirogane stated. “Add him to the bench,” he said to Akashi, who noted it. “Anybody else?”

Silence descended their table. Akashi took a sip of water. Kuroko-san cut down his slice into a careful rectangle, folded it with his cutlery. He looked at his notes while chewing his bite. Akashi looked at Coach Shirogane in confusion as he waited for Kuroko-san.

“They are outstanding players but the lineup is too powerful. There is no fifth-man at their level,” Kuroko-san said and then sipped his water. “Any recruits?” he asked Coach.

“Two.”

Kuroko-san raised his eyebrows, “good enough to be the fifth-man?”

“Maybe.” He tapped his glass with an absent finger. “With more practice.” He looked at Akashi. “We will focus on team play with our four members. On the weekends, show Kuroko-san as many combos as possible.”

He nodded.

Coach turned to Kuroko-san. “Learn the players and their styles. We should be able to do combos with bench players. I want to see team plays at high speed. Changing people shouldn’t affect our game plan. We aim to upgrade our team play in the next term. It is your job.”

“I will do my best, Shirogane-san.”

Coach nodded. Then called for the check.

“It is my treat,” Kuroko-san tried to take the receipt from the waiter but returned to his pizza with a blush after Coach’s sharp glance.

Akashi’s hands clenched around his empty water glass. Of course, Coach knew why Akashi kept Mayuzumi-san in the game. He should have been able to create Perfect Rhythm with another player. It was Akashi’s fault. He didn’t know enough about his teammates.

(Their pets’ names, daily routines, favorite lunch places, significant relationships, important dates… data, data, data.

It didn’t change the result.)

Should he develop a new technique for the other members?

“The tea you ordered, sir.”

Akashi startled from his thoughts. He replaced his water glass to a teacup with a questioning look to Kuroko-san.

“This pizza is so tasty that I couldn’t give it up. Shirogane-san had to return home, but I hoped to convince Akashi-kun to stay with dessert.”

Akashi checked his watch. It was near seven o’clock. He would meet his dorm teacher at eight o’clock. He didn’t do his shopping, cooking or any of his homework yet. Exams would start next week, he would be behind his schedule if he didn’t finish studying four chapters of history today. He had to write a report for tomorrow’s student council meeting and organize data for the end-of-year report. He had yet to analyze last chess champion’s strategies for the club. It has been three days since he practiced violin.

He expected to resent Kuroko-san for the surprise tournament but just its thought speeded up his pulse and created a lightness in his chest. He wondered when he would get to play with no concerns again.

Kuroko-san coughed, took a sip of water before cutting another precise rectangle of pizza. As he rolled it with his cutlery, he glanced at Akashi.

“Did you decide on your dessert, Akashi-kun?” he said.

“Thank you for your offer Kuroko-san, but I got enough carbohydrates today.”

“Akashi-kun is worrying about the wrong things.”

“I ate pizza and snacks.”

“Yet you didn’t eat lunch and played four games today.”

Akashi nodded. “So, I ate pizza.”

Kuroko-san paused. “What is your usual dinner?”

“Tofu soup.”

“For breakfast? Rice, at least?”

He nodded. “I eat rice at breakfast.”

“It is an accomplishment that Akashi-kun can preserve his muscles with such a diet.”

“I apply a high protein diet.”

“With rice for breakfast and tofu for dinner? What do you eat for lunch - beef?”

“I use protein powd -”

“No, no. I am horrified enough. This place makes a delicious tiramisu, I am ordering it.”

Creams and coffee? Along with carbohydrates?

“Right,” he muttered.

His skin prickled. Kuroko-san was watching him again.

Please let this be a ruse for making Akashi react -

“Two tiramisus please.”

Akashi swallowed his groan.

He busied himself with drinking his tea as Kuroko-san finished his meal. He took the final sip of his water, wiped his mouth and folded his hands on the table. Akashi straightened when his calm gaze focused on him.

“I wanted to ask if Nebuya-kun always shouts like that?”

“Yes, he shouts ‘Muscle’ while playing.”

“I meant the hungry one.”

He remembered Nebuya’s fired-up shout of ‘Hungry’ as he caught a rebound at the semi-final game of the tournament. Akashi couldn’t hold back a chuckle which resulted in laughter in his teammates that spread to the whole gym. He had to erase all humor from his expression and shout a direction to their defensive positions before the game paused.

His lips twitched. “That was him being hungry.”

“We can use it.” Kuroko-san gave a determined nod.

“I don’t think it would suit Rakuzan’s image,” Akashi said, halting, choosing his words with care. What an odd idea.

“That’s why your opponents wouldn’t expect it. Tell me, how would they react?”

“They would laugh.” Except - “and they would stop in confusion.”

“And lose the ball,” he gave a minute smile. “It wouldn’t surprise more than a handful times though. We can also make it a combo cue so the opponents wouldn’t know what to expect.”

Akashi raised his eyebrows and used his teacup to hide his wrinkled nose.

“I give the cues.”

“And everyone is looking at you. You send the signal to Nebuya-kun and he would deliver,” he huffed, “the message to everybody else.”

He frowned. It might work while making them look foolish. He felt like opposing but kept his silence in front of his Assistant Coach.

Kuroko-san chuckled and said, “I like tricks. There are many ways to use them. The fancy ones anger your opponent while the easy ones make them underestimate you. You can stop an attack with one and make them suspicious for more. Use over one and they forget the bigger picture. They are not strategies or tactics but they add spice to the game.”

Akashi liked plain food and plain matches. Find each opponent players’ strength and crush it. Make them fall into hopelessness.

Akashi felt defeat but not despair.

(He came close, once.)

He could see Kuroko-san’s point though. Anything for victory.

Even Nebuya’s fondness of shouting. It wasn't something Akashi thought to use. Was this how Kuroko-san used his observations for basketball?

Kuroko-san brightened when the tiramisus came. Akashi resigned himself to eating it.

It was creamy - ugh - with a hint of coffee - hm - and light - phew. Didn’t go well with green tea. Akashi didn’t let it show, lest Kuroko-san order coffee for him.

Two bites later, Kuroko-san returned back to talking about basketball. Akashi listened with interest.

————

Rakuzan arranged students based on their grades while assigning teachers in terms of their experience. In 1A, they had the dubious honour of having the vice-principal as their homeroom and math teacher.

“Does Akashi-kun have anything to add?” Their homeroom teacher said, his grin widening when he looked at Akashi. “Come here so everybody can hear you.”

Walking in front of the classroom, Akashi glanced to the wall clock. Five minutes until the end of the period. He needed to fill it.

He faced the class and clasped his hands behind him, instead of leaning forward the way their teachers did. "I would like to express my gratitude to my classmates for the opportunity of representing this class. The responsibility was my honour,” he said, precise, sure but most important, slow. Then he paused. His classmates were staring at him with rapt faces. Their homeroom teacher was also looking at him, a large smile of his face. "If you have any suggestions regarding class representation or school events, I can bring them to the student council. We always appreciate your opinions."

He had nothing else to say. A glance showed he still had three more minutes. Here, time for filler sentiments.

“As the best of the first years, I expect this year was rewarding both in academic and recreational activities for you. I am sure your studies are going along fine for the approaching finals. If you have any need in the meantime, I would do my best as your class representative.”

An unprecedented thing happened: Someone raised a hand.

“Haruki-kun?”

“I have a request. You can either solve it yourself or bring it to the student council president,” he grinned.

His classmates sniggered.

Akashi got the contradiction - he was the class representative who should report to the student council, which he was the president of. Was this funny?

Akashi never understood his classmates’ jokes.

He stared at his classmate. His grin faded into a frown at Akashi’s serious expression.

He raised his chin and tightened his fists on top of his desk. “I want your study notes,” he stated.

How nostalgic and disappointing. Akashi used to receive this request in Teiko all the time. When he didn't get it for his first two terms in Rakuzan, it had filled him with hope for his classmates’ competency.

Class notes, Akashi would give without a second thought but study notes took time and preparation. They were a summary of the important topics from all the subjects throughout the year in his handwriting, scattered with small notes and warnings.

He didn’t want to give it. Even though, a few breaths ago, he asked his classmates to come to him for any requests.

He didn’t have a responsibility for his classmates’ grades. So why do they ask for his handwritten notes, knowing it would spread to the whole school within an hour? People who didn’t listen to the teacher at the class or bothered with their homework would receive all the information to get top grades.

Their teacher said nothing about the subject. Akashi wondered if they would change the exam questions if he were to spread his study notes.

Some of his classmates looked hopeful, the others scornful. Haruki looked daring.

Akashi never entered dares he could lose.

(A rule about never losing: Only choose the battles you can win.)

“Are your study notes not enough for your required grades?”

His frown deepened.

“They are fine but I want to see yours.”

“A case of curiosity?”

He shrugged.

A non-answer. How did he hope to win without even taking part in the battle?

“In that case, I can give them after the exams to satisfy your curiosity.”

Akashi watched as the bright eyes darkened and the frowns intensified. Haruki sat down without another word, red faced.

The bell ringed. Akashi blinked. Conversation with classmates filled up the time - he could use it next term. As unpractical and unpredictable as it was.

“Can I get your study notes before the exams, Akashi-kun?” his teacher drawled, with an emphasis on 'I.'

“I will bring them tomorrow, sir,” Akashi said.

His teacher grinned.

(The teachers, on the other hand, requested his study notes in his first term, just before the exams, like the ones in Teiko.)

On his way to his desk, Akashi felt some of his classmates’ glares. His only reaction was to take a deep breath and release it.

Yesterday, after his late dinner with Kuroko-san, he completed all his tasks - except for going over the latest chess championship game.

With 92% probability, last year’s champion would defeat the Rakuzan players. He thought about the champion follow-up. He estimated Rakuzan’s chance against him as 74%. If Akashi gave them an analysis report, it would increase to 82%.

Akashi could prepare the report if he worked on it in all his breaks today. He had three hours of sleep yesterday; if he slept in his breaks instead, the basketball practice would be 7% more efficient.

They lost basketball championship. The chess tournament was this weekend.

He closed his eyes and thought of the semi-final game.

White pawn to D3.


	4. Clubs and Committee Positions

It was common for the third years to graduate from clubs to focus on their exams. Rakuzan took it a step further and excused them from the committee positions too, disregarding how hard the remaining members had to work in the weeks before the exams.Akashi knew how to motivate the basketball team and the Sunday tournament helped. The student council was a different matter. 

The remaining members exchanged another despairing glance behind their paperwork towers. For a moment, Akashi wondered if a competition on finishing paperwork would motivate them, before disregarding the idea. He didn’t have time to organize it with his pile of papers double others. Glancing at them created a sense of ‘no time for anything’, which made his writing sloppy and concentration waver, slowing him even more.

“Who graduates from student council? It is unheard of!” Haru-kun complained again.

“Rakuzan has one of the highest university entry rates in the country. It does everything to make sure of it,” Akashi said from his desk, putting a document to his outgoing pile and taking a new one from his incoming one. The shorter one. He couldn’t reach the taller one from his chair.

“Yes, yes, I get it, but it is their graduation ceremony. Shouldn’t the third years offer their opinion, help to organize or just do something?”

“Didn’t you complain about it last year too?” Aya-chan, the last remaining member, asked.

“I did. Look how much things have changed!”

Aya-chan giggled. Akashi took another document from his incoming pile and replied without taking his eyes off the paper.

“University administration rates are more important than overworking the remaining students. It is one of the selling points of this school.”

“Akashi-kun is as logical as ever.”

Haru-kun rose from his desk and stretched. “It is too much paperwork but at least we can do the secretary’s job. What will you do next year, with your treasurer gone?” He leaned on his desk and flicked back his imaginary long hair. “Who knows the budgets better than me?”

“Akashi-kun does.”

“The Akashi factor,” he moaned and then stuck up a pose with a hand to his forehead. Aya-chan laughed at him. Akashi continued his paperwork, without reacting to their dramatics. 

“Sometimes it feels like you can do our jobs better than us, combined, Akashi-kun.”

“Don’t overestimate,” Akashi mumbled, “and return to your work.”

“Maybe the principal didn’t change the rules because of Akashi?”

“That can be,” Aka-chan giggled. “Your second pile is toppling, Akashi-kun.”

Akashi glanced at it; it looked unsteady. He stood up and divided it into two. Now he had three piles.

Joy.

“The real question is, what will happen after Akashi-kun graduates?”

“Not my question.” Haru-kun shrugged, “And not yours too. I pity the underclassman though.”

“Please stop with imaginary scenarios and continue your work. The student body elects the council president each year, we don’t know who it would be next year.”

The room silenced. Akashi hoped they returned to their paperwork.

“You won’t be a candidate next year, Akashi-kun?” Aka-chan asked with a shaky voice, rising from her seat.

Akashi raised his head in confusion. His eyes met with Aka-chan and Haru-kun’s soulful ones.

“I will be.”

They released deep breaths. 

“Then you would get it. No problem.”

“Be a candidate the year after too, Akashi-kun!”

“Yes,” he said, halting. “Why are you sure I would get it?”

“Because you are Akashi-kun,” Haru-kun stated. 

“You are popular and hard-working and… and -“

“And kinda a genius, you know?”

“You have the Akashi factor. You can do anything.” Aka-chan clapped her hands and smiled at him. 

Akashi frowned, “I can’t do anything.”

Haru-kun made a thoughtful noise, his brown eyes sharp. It was this look that convinced Akashi to make him the council’s treasurer. Akashi allowed him to stare and waited.

“You wouldn’t have said it a few weeks ago.”

His stomach clenched as a sour taste came to his mouth. 

He hated that his defeat didn’t affect only his basketball but his whole life.

He loathed his hesitation before acting and self-questioning before deciding. Above all, he abhorred the question - 

Who was he? 

If not the winner, the absolute one, the perfect child; who was he? 

He also hated how his defeat changed nothing. The team raised their spirits back up, his father moved over his disappointment and nobody else cared, anyway.

( _They_ cared enough to want his defeat. Did anything change after they got it?)

Coach Shirogane added Kuroko-san to the team. It was the only change. 

Everybody still trusted him, listened to him and obeyed him.

If defeat had changed nothing, why did he had to win?

Why did he want to win?

“I heard you lost at basketball,” Haru-kun continued. Akashi focused back to him. “Is this the reason you hesitate? Let me tell you: Basketball has nothing to do with student council.” He leaned over Akashi’s desk in between the paperwork piles. His breath hit Akashi’s face when he hissed, “I don’t care about your defeat.”

“Haru-chan,” Aya-chan murmured and put her hand to his shoulder. He straightened with a frown.

Akashi’s heart was drumming. He froze on his spot, with his eyes glued to Haru-kun’s. 

He knew his defeat didn’t bother these people. They just want the old Akashi back - like everybody else - but they can’t have him back.

Because his defeat changed Akashi. 

Haru-kun sighed. “Man, I know you can’t be good at everything, that’s unrealistic. But you are so confident it feels like that.” He paused and scratched his head. “If you lose it, you - wouldn’t be you.” He threw a helpless glance to Aka-chan. 

“What we mean is, you are a brilliant student council president, Akashi-kun. Please don’t think otherwise because of something unrelated.” She smiled at him. 

“Just what I meant,” Haru-kun stated. He puffed up his chest, crossed his arms and threw Akashi a charismatic grin. Aka-chan rolled her eyes and winked at Akashi.

He swallowed and gave a weak smile back. 

His personal problems had to move aside. He didn’t want to disappoint Haru-kun and Aka-chan.

He looked into Haru-kun’s eyes and said, “thank you for your trust in me. I won’t allow my -” he clenched his fists, “my defeat to affect the council.”

He gave a gentle smile.

“Thank you for your trust in me, Aka-chan.”

She blushed, smiled and nodded.

As silence descended back to their room, Aka-chan moved back to her desk and Akashi returned to his paperwork. He didn’t feel lighter per se, but it was reassuring to hear that his remaining two council members still trusted him.

“Whoa, what a beautiful bonding moment this was!” Haru-kun exclaimed, leaning to Akashi’s desk. “Only to be expected between next year’s president and treasurer, right?”

“And council member!” Aka-chan ran back to them. 

“I guess?” He looked at them in confusion.

“You guess?” They chorused and leaned on his desk. Akashi straightened in his chair.

After several seconds where they shot him significant looks, whose meaning Akashi couldn’t decipher, Aka-chan took pity on them. “Are we still in the council next year?” she asked.

“Yes,” Akashi said.

Haru-kun blinked. “That’s all?”

“You wanted something more?”

“No, no,” Aka-chan laughed as pulled Haru-kun back and dragged him back to his desk. “We will be glad to work with you next year, Akashi-kun.”

“The honor is mine.”

——

Akashi closed his dorm door behind him with a practiced tug. It was the best speed that didn’t bang, didn’t leave it open but also didn’t let it creak. 

Exams started tomorrow. Akashi finished his reviews and solved the last three years’ questions. He got full marks in all of them. In addition, he organized the graduation ceremony, wrote the council’s end of the year report while attending his daily basketball practices.

Akashi never understood last minute studiers.

He walked down the corridor as quiet as trainers could get on the carpeted floor. When he passed an open door, he couldn’t help to glance inside to see who would invite noise to their room when everybody else demanded silence.

Its occupant was leaning on his desk, facing the corridor. When he saw Akashi, he uncrossed his arms with a glare.

“You are Akashi,” he hissed, walking towards the open door like a predator. 

Akashi stopped in reluctance and said, “I am.”

His eyes narrowed down to slits. His hands clenched on the doorframe when he leaned forward. 

“You think you can do anything. That you can be better than us without even trying. You are a fake,” he said.

Akashi closed his eyes and thought about letting the words get to him. He got acquainted with them in these weeks.

However, he was the only one allowed to say it to himself.

He opened his eyes and continued walking.

“Loser, coward, can’t you face me?” the person hissed, “we lost because of you.”

Akashi stopped. He wasn’t from basketball - 

“Who are you?”

The snake-like person turned into a rabid dog, sending his saliva along with his words.

“We got second! Barely! Is this how you do your job? Are your responsibilities so cheap? I wouldn’t have you as a pawn on my set!”

Ah. Chess. 

Akashi narrowed his eyes and raised his chin. “I estimated your chances of being second as 82%, I don’t care if you caught that chance with difficulty,” he stated. 

Without breaking eye contact, he stepped towards the spluttering figure. His heart was pounding in his ears but his head was clear. 

Everything was sharper.

“This was just a favor. You can’t afford to have me on your set.” He took another step closer and put two fingers on the chess club president’s shoulder. He noted with satisfaction that the other’s muscles tensed and his breath hitched in panic. “You lost because you were weak,” he whispered next to his ear and pushed down his shoulder.

The wide eyed teen fell to the floor with a low thud. Someone shushed them. Akashi looked down on him. 

“Know your place.”

Then, he left the other’s room and walked down the corridor. 

Once outside, he took a deep breath and held it.

Air was fresh and cool on his skin. Wind ruffled his hair. 

He released his breath. 

Relaxed his jaw.

Unclenched his fists. 

Lowered his shoulders.

Walked towards his school.

Basketball. He needed to play basketball.


	5. Starstruck

“It is for strengthening the team bonds and getting to know each other’s style hands on,” Kuroko-san said when he announced another mini-tournament for the Sunday practice. His shoulders relaxed when the team cheered. Even if this would turn into a tradition, Akashi doubted they would get bored with these games.

The only problem would be Akashi winning all of them. They learned not to mind it in Rakuzan.

This time, matches were two quarters-long and there was a prize: Ice cream. Akashi’s teammates were another four bench-warmers. Their grins were as large and their eyes were as bright as his team from last week.

(Because there were playing with the ace?)

They had two power forwards and Akashi had to assume the roles of both shooting and point guard. Though he didn’t miss his shots, he wasn’t a Midorima. He wasn’t even a Mibuchi, but their center tended not to prepare for rebound at Akashi’s shots. He could have missed one of them if he was the type to give lessons on his expense.

Two power forwards in a team didn’t feel like two alphas in a pack because Akashi was also there. It made an offense-focused team and with a powerful center, it might be a usable idea.

Correction: A powerful center and a spirited small forward as this one was running around but doing nothing. To tell the truth, he didn’t have much chance with two power forwards after the ball.

“Any good ideas?” Kuroko-san asked after Akashi sat next to him on the bench to watch the second match of the tournament.

“I have team combinations I haven’t considered before, Assistant Coach.”

“Good. It is the reason we are doing these games.” He paused. “One of them.”

Akashi nodded and turned to the game after Kuroko-san shifted his focus. Nebuya and Hayama were playing against each other. His eyes caught the new manager taking hurried notes at the corner of the gym. He wondered if they would be legible this time. 

“You should ask, ‘what is the other reason, Assistant Coach?’, Captain.”

“Thank you, Shirogane-san,” Kuroko-san said in a dry voice, turning to the Coach.

“You are welcome, Kuroko-kun,” he answered with a grin, facing his assistant.

Akashi looked at his Coach and Assistant Coach in question. Is this how they observed these games?

“Hungry!” Nebuya shouted.

The second time was neither funny nor surprising. He sent a frown to Nebuya but cleared his expression when he felt all the eyes at the gym looking at him. It was just like last week, except he wasn’t at the game this time. Even the playing teams were waiting for his reaction.

He peeked at Coach Shirogane to take cues but he was still looking at Kuroko-san. No, he was facing Kuroko-san but watching the game. 

Akashi turned his empty gaze back to Nebuya, who resumed the game after the tiniest embarrassed pause. Hayama laughed at him while trying to steal the ball.

“The opposite team wouldn’t take cues from Akashi-kun, we should create that scenario,” Kuroko-san said, turning back to the match.

He remembered Kuroko-san’s idea from last week.

"You still haven’t asked 'What is the other reason, Assistant Coach?', Captain."

“What is the other reason, Assistant Coach?”

Kuroko-san huffed but threw an amused glance at Coach before turning to Akashi. “To try out tricks. Remember my idea from last week?”

He nodded. It sounded silly then, and it looked as much when implemented. Akashi couldn’t believe Coach Shirogane was going along with it.

“We can’t try it again in this game. Let’s change places in the meantime, Akashi-kun,” said Kuroko-san. “We need to take you out of the equation; talking with Coach could work.” His lips twitched, “since they don’t see me.”

Akashi sat between his Coach and Assistant Coach with his back straight, hands on his thighs and eyes only on the game. When it ended, he glued his eyes instead on the new manager, willing his thoughts to reach her with telepathy. He clenched his fists as Coach watched her stumble with her arms full of towels and water bottles.

“Does Hideo-kun know we added him to the bench?” Kuroko-san murmured, directing their attention from the clumsy manager to the lean player. Hideo was tight like a spring and his focus was on an oblivious Nebuya. 

“Not yet,” Coach said, narrowing his eyes. “We will announce it next term, after seeing the newcomers.”

Kuroko-san hummed. Akashi took his eyes off Hideo’s deepening frown to take in his dangerous observation skill. Kuroko-san’s face was blank and his impassive eyes were on Hideo, who broke his glare to Nebuya to look at their way in confusion. Kuroko-san didn’t interrupt his scrutiny and Hideo didn’t see him. Akashi’s skin prickled. 

When the new game started, Akashi gave more attention to Hideo, hoping to understand Kuroko-san’s interest in him. With his thin body, his rebounds were in vain against Nebuya’s bulk, yet he stole two of Nebuya's passes. Was it Nebuya's weakness or Hideo’s strength?

"Look at Coach at 4:30, that is Nebuya's cue," Kuroko-san muttered, startling Akashi from his inspections. His blue eyes were still on Hideo.

At 4:25, Akashi and Coach faced each other, discussing something to all appearances. Their eyes were on the game. Akashi counted five seconds and then, Nebuya roared:

"I want ice cream!"

Akashi felt the moment the whole team’s eyes turned on him. They saw him busy, not aware of the shout. 

(Did they know him at all?)

Hayama laughed and straightened from his stance. His teammates looked between him and Akashi before their chuckles won. Hideo frowned at Nebuya as if daring him to win the tournament prize. 

And lost the ball to one of Nebuya’s teammates. None of them took their eyes off the ball after the yell, Akashi noted. 

"Gotcha," Kuroko-san said. He leaned backwards and took his eyes off Hideo to smile at Coach.

Akashi blinked at the game again and pressed his lips together. Such an inelegant maneuver and yet, he could see its effect on the playing teams. Nebuya and his team highfived each other while Hideo was red with frustration. Hayama was throwing him annoyed glances. 

Coach nodded and said, "We have to create a larger surprise."

“The basic idea is here, let’s build on it,” Kuroko-san said, turning a new page on his clipboard and writing Coach’s suggestion. “Any ideas, Akashi-kun?”

His eyes widened. He thought Coach and Kuroko-san would develop the plan and leave its application to Akashi. That was how it had worked.

A warmness spread to his insides. He looked into Kuroko-san’s eyes and promised to be worthy of this man’s respect. 

"His teammates could also react," he said, thinking of using this trick at practice games in the next term. If Hayama and Mibuchi both reacted, would it attract the opposing team’s more attention? Or would it put them at a disadvantage in case the opponent wouldn't get surprised?

They continued discussing ways to improve this ruse until Akashi's game. He had already guessed his opponents and his strategy was ready. They would win this game and this tournament. 

Akashi itched to play in a real tournament. And maybe, try out these tricks.

——

His team cheered and hugged each other when they won the tournament. One of them hollered while another did a small dance. After releasing their pent-up energy, they looked at Akashi with bright eyes and large smiles. He nodded at them. 

The two power forwards pushed the small forward towards Akashi. He threw a glare over his shoulder before taking a hesitant step. He raised his hand for a handshake.

“Thank you, Captain.”

Akashi looked at the hand and then to its owner with his stiff form, large frozen smile and three eager faces looking over his shoulders.

He took the hand.

“There is nothing to thank me for, we won the tournament together.”

The player released a deep breath. He locked his shining eyes to Akashi’s, held his hand with both hands and shook it. Again. And again.

“Thank you, thank you, Captain,” he said, his voice unsteady.

“I told you, we won together.”

“Thank you, Captain!”

He continued shaking his hand. Akashi looked at his team.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“You played with us, Captain.”

“I would, you are my team.”

“You didn’t need to, but you still played with us. We slowed you down, right?”

_“You slow me down.”_

Akashi jerked his head back as if slapped. The handshaking paused as four sets of eyes widened in panic.

Slowed down the ace.

The ace who could win the game by himself.

Akashi hadn’t won by himself.

(The others hadn’t, too. They had tried.)

“You don’t slow me down,” he stated. “We are the Rakuzan team, this team doesn’t slow me down.”

_“I see no useless member in this team.”_

(How far they had come.)

“Thank you, Captain, thank you.”

“Can I shake your hand too, Captain?”

Eh?

“Me too!”

Akashi nodded, not sure how to react.

Kuroko-san saved him by appearing in front of them, thus startling his teammates. Akashi used the opportunity to separate himself from them while rubbing his shoulder and flexing his fingers.

“Starstruck, hm?” Coach Shirogane said, who stopped next to him.

“I don’t understand the reason they are behaving like this.”

“No, you don’t,” he stated. They watched as Kuroko-san congratulated the winning team. Akashi could see they didn’t know what to make of him but still reddened under his praises and gave curt nods to what had to be improvements and suggestions. Satisfied with the scene, Coach scanned the gym. Akashi waited.

In the first term, he had learnt that Coach’s gaze wandered while he collected his thoughts. He delivered them with a stare the recipient wasn’t allowed to break though. He also never liked waiting, even for the millisecond it took for his audience to turn to him so he could create eye contact and begin his speech. 

“The team loves these tournaments,” he said, looking over the players chatting among each other while walking to the dressing rooms.

“Yes, Coach.”

“They seem to reach their aim too.”

Teamwork. Hands on experience with each other’s playing style.

Trying out tricks.

Akashi nodded.

“Tricks.” Coach’s sharp eyes focused on him. Akashi straightened. “Why does the emperor, the oldest and most powerful Rakuzan, need them?”

Akashi ignored this question since last week.

“Kuroko-san explained it as adding spice and manipulating the opponent’s perception.”

Coach chuckled. “Yes, he likes both. They will be useful tools for our strategy to victory but it is not their main aim. Always remember: Kuroko-kun is here for teamwork.” He waited until Akashi nodded. “Now, inspect these trickeries under this light.”

Akashi frowned. They were small… things that… brought the team together?

“Kuroko-kun talked with Nebuya-kun’s team before the tournament to explain his idea. Did you see their secret smiles? They were comrades, sharing this trick. And Nebuya-kun looked more proud of the second successful try than he did with his impressive rebounds.”

Akashi wrinkled his nose. Would this create team bonds?

Coach smiled, expecting Akashi’s reaction.

“In his high school days, Kuroko-kun’s nickname was the Phantom Player because his most visible move was the misdirection. He executed high-risk plays based on his observations with lots of tricks scattered around. That’s why he was the trump card of the team - whenever he entered the game, its flow changed.” He put a hand to his pocket. “So, don’t expect standard moves from him but know he would get the result.”

“Was that a compliment?”

Akashi startled. He saw a tiny tick at Coach’s cheek.

“Is Kuroko-kun fishing for some?”

Kuroko-san snickered.

“Your teammates went to the changing rooms, Akashi-kun; we will meet at the gates in ten minutes. The rest of the team also tagged along.”

Akashi nodded and gave a slight bow to his Coaches.

“Captain Akashi,” Coach said with a glance to his assistant. “Kuroko-san will join the graduation ceremony. Did you give the plans to the principal?”

“Yes, I gave them along with the end-of-the-year report.”

Coach Shirogane nodded but instead of dismissing, he kept his intense gaze on him. Akashi’s palms sweated. He won the tournament and took part in Kuroko-san’s trick. Was there something else he had to do?

“Did he say anything else to you?”

The principal?

Akashi swallowed, but it didn’t help his dry throat. “He said he wanted the championship next year.”

Coach's lips flattened and his nostrils flared. “He asked that; he dared it,” he said, his voice low.

Akashi tried to calm down his breathing. When it didn’t work, he looked at Kuroko-san but his attention was on the Coach.

“He - he said -”

“It isn’t his place,” he snarled. “I can say it to you and the principal can to me. He can’t leave this responsibility to your shoulders. You aren’t his employee.”

“He gave me a scholarship, and I gave my word for the championsh -”

“Don’t promise him that!”

Akashi jerked back. His heart beat faster than it did in the tournament but his legs felt so weak.

Coach leaned over him; Akashi could see his pulsing neck veins. He talked with stressing each word as if wishing to hammer them into Akashi’s brain. “Even with no championships or clubs activities, your grades would earn you a scholarship. The school board of directors gives it, not the principal. He gets those promises to guilt you into working more. You don’t need to work more!”

“But I - I lost.”

“It is a game! A competition! We were strong, but we got defeated. It happens. We can’t win every tournament in every year. He knows this!”

Akashi felt paralyzed with his wide eyes locked on the Coach’s blazing ones. His words echoed in his numb mind as his body struggled to take deep breaths.

“Shirogane-san,” Kuroko-san murmured.

“Don’t defend him!”

“I am not. Please stop shouting at Akashi-kun.”

Coach focused on Kuroko-san, who had moved to between him and Akashi. He inhaled and released it through gritted teeth. His shoulders relaxed but his frown stayed.

“To make this team a worthy opponent in championships - that’s my job as this team’s coach. Victory is never a guarantee, just like defeat isn’t a burden. One is a reward, and the other is a lesson.”

He seemed to calm down as he talked. Akashi didn’t dare break eye contact. Kuroko-san stood in his place, his back to Akashi.

“Akashi-kun, I know this defeat affected you deeply. I never blamed you. My anger isn’t towards you but to our principal, who tried to manipulate you. For, as captain, you have to look ahead, free of burdens and promises. You should just get your lesson from our loss and trust your coaches to carry its weight.” He sighed and pinched his brow.

Akashi was feeling nauseous.

“No coach in this school let their captains go to private meetings with the principal but I couldn’t stop it with you as the student council president. He used this opportunity and he will continue to do so next year. Captain, report me everything he tells you about this team.”

Akashi gave a shaky nod.

“Good. Now go and eat your ice-cream.”

When Coach broke eye contact, Akashi took a step, two steps backwards. Then turned around to go to the changing rooms.

He tried to stop himself from running. 

It didn’t work.


	6. Ice-cream vs hot chocolate

The changing rooms were empty, cool and smelled of sweat. In the bathroom, Akashi splashed water to his face and then leaned on his unsteady hands. He bowed his head, not wishing to see his reflection in his current state; his face burned while his legs trembled.

He threw himself to the showers and turned on to the coldest. He hugged himself and slid down the wall.

Now his shaking was from cold. Nothing else.

Why did the Coach shout at him? What wrong did he do?

He pulled his knees and put his forehead on them.

The team had to be waiting for him. He didn’t feel like moving.

(Walk ahead, never stop or hesitate. 

Don’t be weak. 

Deserve your surname. 

Stand up.)

Akashi turned down the water and got to his feet. His knees were shaking.

(Because it was freezing.)

Supporting himself on the walls, he reached his locker. He shuddered as he sat on the bench and wrapped himself to his towel. His shoulders slumped in exhaustion. 

His phone beeped. 

He didn’t want - Mibuchi! Was he sending a worried message before coming to the dressing rooms? Akashi had to stall him. At least until his shaking stopped.

He opened the message; it was from - 

Kuroko-san.

“We are going to the ice-cream shop at the corner. Take your time but don’t worry your teammates.”

No more time limit.

He lay on the bench and curled up in himself.

Would he be able to stay here until he warmed up?

Kuroko-san was a strange person, but he was right. That would worry the team, also a cold before the exams was the last thing he needed.

He closed his eyes and put his temple to the bench. His face was feeling hot while his stomach was convulsing in sync with his shivers. 

Coach Shirogane didn’t believe he would get the championship next year? He thought Akashi would not move on from his defeat? 

He had to overcome it, but he didn’t know the way.

How did one get over loss? He couldn’t forget when just its thought made his insides churn. Every move of his teammates reminded it - their relief at his normal behavior, worry when he stills in consideration and frustration he was their strongest, but it wasn’t enough.

What was his victories worth when one defeat nullified them all?

He jerked when his phone beeped.

“I know I said take your time but Nebuya-kun finished his fourth ice-cream already. They are waiting for you. I told them you are talking with the Coach.”

Kuroko-san seemed on his side. Just last week, he had wondered how to gain his trust, sure in the Coach’s.

Akashi rose and shuddered when his towel fell off him. At least his violent shaking reduced to controllable tremors. Time to join his team and eat ice-cream.

——-

Akashi shivered when a strong wind ruffled his damp hair. He put his hands to his pockets but stood straight, shoulders wide.

No more covering from cold. In reality, the weather was quite warm - he was going to eat ice-cream, for god’s sake.

He heard his team’s loud conversations before he rounded the corner. As he approached, one by one, they silenced and stared at him. A few of them, the Generals included, were scanning him from head to toe. 

He looked normal, right? His tremors shouldn’t be apparent to them, whereas his jump when Kuroko-san materialized next to him was visible, if their chuckles were anything to go by.

“Let’s get your ice-cream, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko-san said and lead him towards the shop before he could get any closer to his teammates. Akashi ignored their gaze on his back or Kuroko-san’s longer steps - he mustered up enough energy for his usual confident stance but, he just wanted to finish this ordeal and go to his dorm.

(And curl up under his covers where nobody could see him.)

“Our team used to come here after practice. They’ve expanded their choices since then,” Kuroko-san said, looking at the menu behind the counter while they waited in the queue. “I want to try their milkshake; what does Akashi-kun want?”

“I will take whatever the rest of the team got.”

“They chose chocolate ice-cream. Would Akashi-kun want some hot chocolate?”

He fisted his hands in his pockets; Kuroko-san has noticed his shivers. He opened his mouth to request the largest ice-cream the shop offered but - but it sounded freezing, especially with hot chocolate as the other option.   
It wasn’t the correct answer of this test though; he would be letting him exploit a weakness - he shouldn’t have let him notice it in the first place.

They moved up in the line and the cashier asked for their order. Kuroko-san was still waiting for Akashi’s answer. His eyes didn’t shift or his lips didn’t curl into the large smile his teachers wore when they offered him kindness, only to demand something at their next breath. He had also covered him after his conversation with the Coach and treated him to pizza last week. They could all be for teamwork or lending a favor to the captain or - or something. 

He checked his posture again - his shoulders didn’t drop but his head had bowed somewhat in thought. His raised his chin and Kuroko-san focused back on him. Akashi noticed with a start that his stare had been on his forehead as if he knew how much it unsettled Akashi. And how such a dissecting gaze would affect him right now.

Kuroko-san was a weird person, whose motivations took significant energy to analyze. So, Akashi of barely straight stance and suppressed shivers only swallowed and said:

“Yes, I would like a hot chocolate.”

Kuroko-san’s expression didn’t change: No victorious tick at the lips or prey caught in the trap light in his eyes. He simply turned to the cashier and said,

“One vanilla milkshake and one bitter hot chocolate, please.”

She continued looking at Akashi with a bored expression. He threw a questioning glance at his Assistant Coach, who knocked the counter and repeated his request after the cashier’s gasp.

After they got their drinks, Kuroko-san moved towards one of the tables next to the large windows looking outside. The team was talking among each other between glances to the shop. Akashi wondered what their problem was while he waited for Kuroko-san to dismiss him. 

“Join me Akashi-kun, I will tell you a story.”

Akashi sat down in front of his Assistant Coach, holding his cup between his hands. He took a sip - it wasn’t sweet enough to make him cringe. Its temperature made up for its taste, anyway.

His eyes slid to his team again. Inside the shop was warm but Kuroko-san was going to talk about what happened with the Coach, right? 

“I’m sure you heard that I was a below-average player: My stamina was so weak that I couldn’t play a whole game; I was so unnoticeable that reporters forgot to interview me; and I had no game records. In any outsider’s eyes, my only use seemed to be the misdirection and passing. I didn’t belong to the Rakuzan team, let alone be its captain.” 

He drank his milkshake and nodded to the hot chocolate Akashi was holding on to like a shield. He sipped it, wondering how anyone could accept being weak.

Then he reminded himself that Kuroko-san had been the captain for three years. 

“Our principal, as invested as he is in every aspect of the school, is an outsider. He cares about the school’s reputation, its university admittance rate, recruiting bright middle-schoolers and how many cups and medals he collected in a year. When he heard my captaincy, he called me to his office and told me to leave the club.”

Akashi froze. He had worried whether the principal would ask him to quit the club and had been relieved when he only asked for the championship.

“How can you refuse the principal, right? I resigned.” Kuroko-san’s lips curled up in nostalgia and then twitched, “of course, Shirogane-san didn’t accept it.” He aimed his piercing blue stare at his student and said, “always be truthful to him, Akashi-kun.”

After that, as if a moment ago he wasn’t giving life lessons, he took a long sip of his milkshake with a happy hum. Akashi also swallowed a gulp and put the cup to the table as it made his hands sweat. 

“A shouting match later, it turned out the principal did the same thing to the baseball team captain - no one had understood why he resigned - and a rising player from the volleyball team - because he was short. Afterwards, all coaches forbid their captains to have private conversations with the principal. You report directly to him as the student council president though. Shirogane-san was dreading he would ask something of you and he exploded when his worries became real.” 

He leaned back and stirred his drink with its straw. “The basketball team won three nationals under my captaincy, that short player became the volleyball team’s ace and the baseball team won gold the next year. Coaches know their team the best. They are also familiar with the principal,” he chuckled. “He tries this every year.”

Kuroko-san moved forward and propped his elbows on the table. As the sole focus of his sharp gaze, Akashi felt like a deer caught in the headlights, while under the microscope. He straightened, noting with alarm that he had slumped in his seat.

“Shirogane-san’s reaction wasn't about your performance. Do you understand this, Akashi-kun?”

He gave a quick nod. Kuroko-san frowned. He nodded again and said, “I understand it, Kuroko-san.” 

“If you say so,” he murmured. He gave a tiny sigh when Akashi dropped his eyes. As if to wash away the disappointment, he sipped his drink, but it slurped instead. With a childish glare, he opened its cap, drank its last drops from the cup and then licked his lips with satisfaction.

Akashi wondered if milkshake was his favorite drink, watching his Assistant Coach in bewilderment and amusement.

“Did you finish your hot chocolate?”

He finished it in one large gulp. Kuroko-san chuckled as he gave him a tissue and stood up.

The team was still waiting outside. Akashi tried not to frown at the faces that brightened at his coming but he doubted they were ready for the exams tomorrow. Why were they wasting time here?

“I hope you liked your ice-creams,” Kuroko-san announced, earning all sorts of surprised reactions. “I delayed your captain to have company as I ate my mine. Now here he is, stuffed with chocolate.” His teammates snickered; he erased his expression with care as his heart skipped a beat. “Good luck on your exams and hope to see all of you in the next term.”

They chorused and bowed at him.

Akashi glanced after him as he started walking down the road. 

(He saw what Kuroko-san did.)

“Sei-chan, are you all right? You looked pale when you came.”

“I am fine,” he answered.

He was. His hair had dried, his cheeks were warm from the shop’s temperature and hot chocolate felt pleasant in his stomach.

He was relaxed, calm and maybe just a bit comforted by his Assistant Coach’s words.

“Stuffed with chocolate, as Kuroko-san said,” he continued.

His team laughed. 

Chocolate, not chocolate ice-cream. He looked and acted normal, just detained because Kuroko-san wanted to chat with him. 

No special treatment for him. No questions about why he was getting hot chocolate in this weather or was he shivering or what they talked with the Coach that it took so long.

He even had a tissue with chocolate-residue in his hand.

_“Perception and tricks, he likes both.”_

If this is how his tricks worked, Akashi couldn’t wait to see them applied to basketball.

“You don’t even like chocolate,” Hayama shouted over the noise.

Bitter chocolate wasn’t too bad.

“I went along with my team’s choice.”

All at once, the three generals started scolding them about Akashi’s tastes, under some laughter and serious consideration.

Then, his tournament center started taking notes. He glanced at Akashi’s frown and quickened his writing, as if Akashi was a teacher that told the exam finished when he just found the answer. Nebuya continued listing meals with enthusiasm.

The food list had ridiculous amount of detail - he liked soy bean burger without pickles but preferred cheeseburger with. It also seemed unending so Akashi crossed his arms and said, “this is enough.”

The whole team silenced and looked at him. His center was trying to open his bag without making any noise. He sighed but said, “You can keep the notes,” earning himself a bright smile.

His teammates were grouped around him in a half-circle; he focused on each face. All had a gleam in their eyes and wide smiles. Akashi felt his chest expand - with its good and bad, this was his team. They would be champions together. 

“Thank you for your hard work. I hope to see you again in the next term.”

They thanked him in return. The Generals looked bright-eyed. 

“And good luck on your exams.”

Panic flashed through many faces as they checked their watches.

Akashi’s brow ticked. “I won't accept lower than 4.5 GPA to the team.”

The team scattered with hasty goodbyes.


	7. A conversation he wasn’t ready for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! *waves shyly* How have you been?

"- and this is my classroom, see, that’s my sea -" 

The voice choked. Akashi raised his head.

Maya-chan was flushing already. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Preparing a speech,” he said and then nodded to Maya-sempai. Her smile and wave back looked like royalty greeting the crowd. Next to her, Maya-chan put her foot on a chair and entered a fighting pose. With the air of someone imagining a theme song in the background, she pointed him and said,

“Why will you talk at the ceremony?”

“Why, little sister? After all, he is the number one.”

“It is because he is council president!”

“How would you know, number two?”

“My, my, won’t you introduce the young man to us?”

“No!”

Maya-sempai giggled. 

Akashi glanced at the clock - twenty minutes - and willed himself to ignore the surrounding commotion. 

He wasn’t doing this speech due to his grades or the student council. He had to do it because the principal saw Akashi doing the final check of the decorations. He told his wonderful idea with a grin to Coach Shirogane and his homeroom teacher accepted before he could do anything but a scowl. It was an hour before the ceremony.

“I will be number one next term!”

Akashi startled from his contemplation of the blank sheet of paper. 

Maya-chan was red in the face. 

Then her words registered - she was number two? He didn’t remember her score - how many points were between them?

“Quite a baseless assumption,” he said.

“I will beat you!”

Fifteen minutes.

He didn’t have time for this.

He stood up, crumbled his paper and threw it to the trash.

“Maya-sempai, you will be late to the ceremony, you have a speech. Maya-chan, cease your dream of beating your sister; your biggest accomplishment would be to graduate as number two.” 

After a nod to their parents, he left the classroom. Maya-chan’s scream echoed in the empty corridor.

He had to go with his speech to the graduating basketball team members - he had nothing else.

He could imagine Mayuzumi-san’s scoff. His irrelevance to the event would be an early birthday present to him.

———

Akashi nodded at Saito-san as he left the room after bringing his suitcase. It looked weary and dwarfed in his closet room, similar to a dusty fingerprint to a shiny photograph. 

Akashi, himself, felt like an intruder to a cherished and protected relic. 

His room at Tokyo looked as if he didn’t leave a day. 

It has been a year since he entered this room.

And he had changed.

(He got defeated.)

After shaking off his disorientation, Akashi inspected the huge room, trying to gauge the personality that lived here. 

The enormous desk and bookshelf set was the main attraction, placed a strategic distance from the floor-to-ceiling windows that their abundance of curtains didn’t reach it while sunlight did. Next to the desk was a shogi board so he could play only by turning in his chair. And in the corner stood his calligraphy set and latest works.

Akashi moved to examine the bookshelf, his hands clasped at his back not to touch any of the museum objects.

Management, economics and finance. Books up to the second year of high school and an empty shelf where his middle-school books used to be. Two rows of basketball magazines with Machiavelli’s Prince balanced on their top. If he remembered - yes, Sun Tsu’s Art of War was next to the shogi set. Their shiny pieces were in the middle of a game. It must be against himself, Akashi recalled the tactics of both sides. 

His Teiko uniform was hanging, pressed and ready to use, in the closet room; his basketball uniform must be next to it. Instead, Akashi focused on the host of shirts and pants filling the room, some of them with price tags on them. He wondered if any of those clothes fitted anymore. Akashi’s shoulders were wider, arms thicker, and he was, somewhat, taller.

Throwing a dubious look at the double bed, so high with fluffy covers and pillows it couldn’t be comfortable, he glanced at the Rakuzan booklets at his bedside table. One told of the school’s high university admittance and prestige. Another of its success in sports and social activities for the students. Akashi had underlined dorms. 

He remembered feeling overwhelmed in this room. Stuffed to the brim, choking under responsibilities but having to move on. Walk on. Be victorious.

His touristic tour over, Akashi sat on the desk chair and turned on the computer.

A black wallpaper and an empty desktop except for a few shortcuts. One was to his old school folder, which was full of homework, projects and reports. He didn’t bother checking it further. Another was of a chatting program. He didn’t know whether they still used it and didn’t open it to check.

(They had downloaded it because Murasakibara asked it rather than their belief of using it. Akashi still didn’t know his reason.)

The last item on the desktop was the online shogi game he played with Midorima.

He clicked. It opened to a bare board and the list of friends he had. It was empty.

Midorima had unfriended him or deleted his profile.

(It was full of defeats anyway.)

Maybe he had also uninstalled the game.

Akashi should have formatted the computer when he left for Rakuzan.

He should just do it now - after copying his middle school folder to a hard disk. 

He explored the folders to see if there was anything else to save. Documents folder, check. Movies folder, it was empty. Music folder, he had transferred his achieve to his laptop before leaving. Photos folder - 

What was this jumbled bunch? No folders, no names, nothing to distinguish the files. Akashi opened them in random.

A go tournament. Akashi and Yukimaru - he had to be around ten years old. He was in traditional robes, in front of a temple. Akashi and Nijimura-sempai - the training camp of the first year.

He wondered what Nijimura-sempai was doing. Did he hear Akashi’s defeat? Did he even follow Japan high school basketball?

Akashi looked so young in the picture. And his expression - 

Argh. 

He saw it often.

Starstruck.

He didn’t keep on shaking his hand, right? Or take notes of his favourite dishes?

(It was fried rice.)

Right.

He chose another picture.

It was their second year nationals awards ceremony.

He was looking ahead, face blank, with a gold medal around his neck and holding the cup.

It was heavy. 

He remembered Nijimura-sempai taking it after the photos because Akashi's arms were shaking. After a look at the team already walking to the changing rooms, Sempai had given him a worried frown and patted his shoulder. It meant to be encouraging but only seemed like more weight on his shoulders.

Nijimura-sempai had held the cup until they reached the school.

Akashi chose another picture.

Ah, happy times. The silence before the storm. Second term of the second year. 

Akashi was even eating a popsicle. They must have reached him before Murasakibara ate the whole pack. 

He chose another picture.

A small Akashi was holding a basketball ball larger than his head, giving the largest grin he could manage while sitting on his mother’s lap.

Akashi choked.

He turned off the computer.

The room was stuffed and overbearing already.

Three days. That was all. Then he would return to his life.

A knock came to his door.

“Young master, the dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” Maiya-san called.

The dinner would always be ready at seven o’clock in this house but Maiya-san insisted on reminding every day.

He thanked her and moved to his closet room.

Akashi left his room for his first face-to-face conversation with his father with a shirt too tight on the shoulders and itchy trousers. 

He entered the dining room just as the antiqued clock’s first strike echoed in it. His seat was at the long table’s closest end to the door so he put a hand to the high-winged chair and waited. His father entered at the second strike and with only a nod to acknowledge his presence, walked the length of the table to his seat. 

Akashi sat down after his father did. Maiya-san entered with soups at the clock’s seventh strike.

“How was your school year?”

“It was beneficial, father.”

“How is your team?”

Akashi didn’t upset his spoon, kept his hand and posture relaxed. Nothing but a normal question of a normal dialogue. 

“They are fine, father.”

They had talked on phone after his defeat. It was a short conversation. He hoped the subject was closed then.

His father didn’t speak until the main course came.

“Are you comfortable in your accommodations?”

“Yes, I am, father.”

Silence returned. Akashi expected nothing more until his father dismissed him.

He finished his meal before his father. They used to eat at the same rate, Akashi must have gotten faster. A side effect of working on lunch hours.

Maiya-san’s food was delicious. They also came with decorations and a nice arrangement. Akashi always wished to see them in a clear light instead of the low one of the dining room. He wondered if they would taste as good with normal plates and chopsticks instead of bone china plates and silver cutlery.

Father finished eating and put his cutlery on his plate. Maiya-san entered before their tiny ringing finished.

“We will take our tea in my study.”

Father stood up. Akashi followed him.

Why wasn't he dismissed? What else could they talk about?

(Not his defeat. Not his defeat. Please, not his defeat.)

His father’s study comprised a huge, mahogany desk facing the door and several bookshelves covering the walls. The desk had two chairs in front for visitors. Father sat at one. Akashi settled at the other across from him.

He surpassed his urge to wipe his sweating hands on his pants and swallowed.

Behave like an Akashi. Like the son his father groomed him to be.

He raised his head at a snail’s pace and looked his father in the eye. Then shivered. 

In that moment, Akashi understood the reason behind the ridiculous long table and low light of their dining room. It was for his own good. Looking into Akashi Masanori’s eyes with only a coffee table between them was like drowning in the man’s immense presence. 

Akashi didn’t let himself break the eye contact, blinked as little as possible, even as his ears rang. He didn’t take his eyes off his father when Maiya-san entered and left the room. Only when he focused on his tea did Akashi feel like he could breathe and took a shaky one. With a numb mind, he watched as father prepared his tea the way he liked, with some honey, and took a sip.

“Drink your tea, son.”

He gulped down the whole cup. It burned all the way to his stomach. His tongue ached.

Father leaned forward, took the empty cup from his hands and filled it. Akashi’s hands trembled and his heart hammered - Why was father serving Akashi? Was he such an inept son that -

“Everything deserves respect, Seijuro. Maiya-san prepared this tea for us, leaving it unfinished would be disrespectful for her. Tea itself deserves respect too, or it would burn you.” He put the cup back to its saucer and extended it to Akashi. “Drink this tea with small sips but don’t take too long or it would turn bitter. Everything deserves respect, son, but you determine how much.”

Akashi nodded and took a small sip. It hurt his tongue. He tried to hold the cup like his father, a hand under the saucer and the other touching its rim.

Father looked him in the eye. The cup shuddered in its saucer. “You have grown up, my son. Not enough to have this conversation but we have no choice.” He took a sip. Akashi did too. 

It hurt his clenched stomach.

“You are my heir. For now, it means you need to study more than anyone else, but for ahead - you are the company’s future, Seijuro.” He focused on his father’s lips so he could comprehend the speech - 

And he knew all of this. Father said it before. But - still - his heart speeded up for a different reason this time. His hand curled around the cup as if protecting its warmth would also shelter the one in his chest.

“This is not a secret, everybody knows it. It makes you quite a catch.”

Akashi frowned. “I don’t date and I am careful of my schoolmates trying to be my friends.”

“I know. You are a clever boy.”

Eh?

Father paused, then took a sip of his tea. Akashi followed.

“Answer me: Who would benefit the most from getting close to you?”

Akashi’s life revolved around studying, basketball, working out and various school responsibilities. Anyone near him would get lots of exposure to these subjects but no direct help. Akashi neighter shared his homework, lest it turned into an attractive commodity for the student body, nor did he tell the critical information about the basketball team or student council to unrelated people. This was how he dissuaded the power-hungry people from getting close to him for his various titles. 

But father wouldn’t care about his school titles and their consequences; his concentration would always be the company. 

So - “Company employees?”

Father nodded and smiled.

Akashi’s heart skipped a beat.

“Our employees are hard working and eager yet they are also survivors of an ambitious multi-nation corporation. When you work at the company, just your vague recollection of them would be invaluable and might mean their future insurance.”

Father took a large final sip and put his cup back to the tray. Akashi took a small sip, still wanting to hold the cup. 

“In Tokyo, where our headquarters is, you were always under Saito-san’s eye.”

Ah. 

His begging not to use a driver to school, to look like a normal student and his father’s strict refusal.

“I believed you could be freer in Kyoto. It didn’t turn out to be the case, thus our conversation right now.”

Akashi’s throat closed.

Will he live in an Akashi household and driven back and from the school in Kyoko as well? Have a curfew and feel eyes on him whenever he was outside school or home? Have to report why he came home late? Or left early? 

His ears ringed. 

“Open your eyes, son, I won’t change your living conditions.”

He opened them and looked at his father, who was holding a streaming cup.

(How much tea was there?)

Akashi bit his lip and put his half-empty cup back to the table before it made any more noise in his trembling hands. 

So much for behaving like a good son. 

“This conversation is a warning. An employee got close to you in the place we thought the most secure.” He got a dossier from his desk and extended it to Akashi. “Read it, son. Know as much about him as possible, for he knows everything about you.”

He opened the dossier. It was about - 

Kuroko Tetsuya.


	8. Tokyo Conversations

Kuroko-san?

They were getting worked over Kuroko-san?

Father leaned back in his chair. “You knew he was working for our company,” he said. 

_’You are my future boss.’_

“Yes, he told me.”

“What else did he told you?”

He tried to remember the conversation between Kuroko-san and Coach Shirogane - Akashi’s focus had been on the pizza. “That he wasn’t able to become the Assistant Coach until this term because of his job.”

Akashi opened the dossier and looked at Kuroko-san’s expressionless photo at the corner of the first page. 

Name: Kuroko Tetsuya. Birthplace: Tokyo. Family: Parents (divorced), brother.

He thought about his excited bouncing before the tournament, bright eyes when talking about basketball and bitter hot chocolate.

Perception and tricks.

“Is he dangerous?”

“He is ambitious. Check his position.”

Kuroko-san was a brand manager.

“That job needs four years of experience. He got there in two. He is an employee I would like to keep in my company but away from my son, the type that prefers asking for forgiveness instead of permission.”

Akashi looked at the files, glad to occupy himself without drinking more tea. 

Kuroko-san has worked in all the Akashi Holding companies in Kyoto. He started with small summer jobs in high school, did his university internships along with another group of summer part-time jobs. After graduation, he got a full-time job. 

“He got your attention already. Why else would he need me for?”

“He doesn’t know he attracted my attention,” father said and then paused. “With as close to you as he got, he must have known it would get to my attention though.”

“So, he reached his aim?”

Father frowned. Akashi’s hands clenched on the dossier. 

(Stop asking questions!)

He bowed his head and turned the page. Kuroko-san’s education.

His next breath shuddered. 

Kuroko-san had graduated from Teiko. 

Basketball club, library committee. He wasn’t a captain.

Then Rakuzan - basketball club; captain, library committee.

Akashi swallowed and raised his eyes. “He is my assistant coach, father. What do you want me to do?”

“Does he show you extra attention? Did you have private chats?”

“We - once. It was about basketball.”

“He impressed you in two meetings,” his father stated.

Akashi lowered his eyes.

“He was kind,” he murmured.

“Talk clear.” Father’s order cracked in the silent room.

Akashi’s head jerked up. He was facing the father he was used to: Stern expression, rigid posture and a fixed frown that told Akashi what a disappointment he was.

He straightened in his chair, folded his hands in his lap and erased his expression. Akashi couldn’t believe how comfortable he was sitting in front of his father. 

It wouldn’t do.

He forced himself to look into his father’s eyes, as exposed and vulnerable as it made him feel. He regretted all the tea he drank until now as they turned into coiling snakes in his stomach. 

“Kuroko-san was kind,” he said, “and he has a different basketball style.”

Father narrowed his eyes, “he showed you some sympathy when you needed it.”

Not needed. Not even wanted. 

More like, when he wouldn’t reject it.

“You needed kindness?”

Weakness. 

His palms were sweating.

“It won’t happen again, father.”

Father blinked. Closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Relaxed his shoulders. 

Akashi’s heart drummed in his ribcage. He made his father angry, right?

He breathed out, opened his eyes and said, “Just be careful around him.”

Akashi nodded.

“What is so special about his basketball, anyway?”

Akashi remained silent. 

Father sighed. He drank his remaining tea in one gulp and put the cup back to the tray.

“You can go to your room. Take the dossier with you.”

Akashi nodded, stood up and then bowed.

“Thank you for your time, father.”

He released a shuddering breath when he closed the door behind him. 

In his current state, he could sleep even in that too-soft bed.

———

The next day, after trying out several shirts and still suffering the mortification of sitting in front of his father with skintight clothes, Akashi went shopping. 

He planned his timing so Maiya-san would be busy preparing lunch at the kitchen however he couldn’t leave the house without notifying Saito-san, who was sitting in his usual chair facing the front door.

As soon as he saw Akashi approaching, Saito-san stood up and gave a small bow. 

“Are you leaving, Young Master? Would you like me to drive you?” 

It used to be ‘I will drive you’. Akashi didn’t let his surprise show on his face and seized his chance. 

“I will go on my own.”

Saito-san nodded and sat down.

Akashi blinked. 

As he closed the front door behind him, he glanced at Saito-san. Would he follow him? Would he notify Maiya-san? Akashi looked over his shoulder every few steps - no movement on the windows or an approaching car rumble. 

What changed? He was able to leave the house on his own now because he was a high school student?

(Saito-san still drove him everywhere last year.)

(He didn’t sound disrespectful of him, right?)

Akashi stopped and waited as the large, iron gates of the estate opened with a flourish. 

They didn’t have a pedestrian entrance. This was the first time Akashi left his house on foot. He looked around, getting disoriented and dwarfed by the tall walls, until he remembered the security cameras outside. 

(Was Saito-san watching?)

He straightened, chose the direction they turned when they left the house and walked with sure steps. He would to find a bus stop sooner or later. 

A fifteen minutes walk, ten minutes on a bus and half an hour in metro later, he reached his destination. 

It was bustling.

Akashi wandered around, looking for white shirts with half an eye. 

He could always buy his shirts and return home but he had no particular task there either.It was a peculiar feeling to have no demand on his time or attention. He didn't like it. 

He entered a bookstore, checked the business section and bought the new bestseller: Do your own MBA.

To be ahead was always a good idea. 

Father was at one magazine’s cover in his standard sideways pose with crossed arms. When Akashi would get to model for business magazines, he wanted a different pose. Would the one he used for basketball magazines work? With his jacket on though.

(Did crossing arms looked good with a tie?)

He bought the magazine too, for reference.

Shops that sold white shirts looked either too stiff, with a carpeted floor, suited sales people waiting at the door and classical music playing in the background or too casual with countless shirts scattered around in a whole floor or just crammed into a large basket. 

Maybe he should have come with Saito-san. 

Throwing himself away from another packed shop and taking a deep breath, Akashi cheered up when he saw a sportswear store.

Something he understood. 

And he needed a new pair of basketball shoes.

Well… he could always use a new one.

Not high ones like Aomine or Kagami wears. 

Not black or red… would be nice if it suited Rakuzan’s colo -

Nope. That light blue shoe was an eye-sore.

White with sky blue stripes, perhaps? 

(For a moment, he imagined going shopping with his teammates: Nebuya would buy the first shoe he saw while Mibuchi tried every model the shop had. Hayama would laugh at their bickering and in his next breath, ask Akashi’s opinion whether these clothes made him resemble his so-called spirit animal.)

Akashi smiled as he reached for another shoe. Why would there be black sole on a white -

He drew back when he hit another hand reaching for it.

“Excuse - “

The black haired teen took a step back, crossed his arms and said, “did the emperor joined us commoners? Learned his place?”

Akashi tensed, his jovial mood vanishing in a puff.

The teen scowled, thus making his narrow eyes even smaller, and then leaned forward to snarl, “what are you doing here?”

Akashi stared at him. “Shopping.”

“I mean, what are you doing in Tokyo?”

“Visiting my father.”

The teen blinked his grey eyes.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Shuutoku’s point guard.”

“No name?”

“He doesn’t keep such information because he considers them unnecessary -nanodayo,” a voice stated over them.

Midorima adjusted his glasses.

He stood so close that Akashi had to either raise his head or take a step back to look at his face. Like he challenged Akashi to ankle break him.

Daring him to say ‘lower your head.’

And ‘know your place.’

Akashi learned his place. 

He was their opponent.

He turned to the shoes instead, taking a white one with light blue soles from the shelf, dismissing them. The shooting guard bristled next to him and Midorima would have narrowed his eyes.

Akashi was the one who had made the Generation of Miracles subservient to him. Such techniques wouldn’t work on him.

“Kazunari Takao. Learn the names that will defeat you.”

Akashi didn’t take his eyes off the shoe. “Shuutoku point guard, finished first year. Height 176 cm, weight 65 kg. All physical and mental abilities are above average. Possesses hawk eye. Most common moves are blind passes and direction changes. Favorite special technique is whatever you call your move with Midorima. You will use it in our next game with over 90% probability, yet the possibility of changing the ball’s direction is less than 15%, as Midorima is left-handed. It won’t work against Rakuzan.” He put the shoe back and looked at the wide-eyed Takao. “I don’t need your name to know you can’t beat me in your current state.”

“You are not absolute, Akashi! You got defeated.”

“I did,” he stated. 

Admitting it made him sick.

And furious.

“I won’t again.”

Midorima’s eyes widened. Good.

_”Defeat Rakuzan! And Akashi!”_

Good.

_"I don’t care who I receive the ball from.”_

_"There's not a single player on this team who's a hindrance.”_

Good.

He didn’t want to continue this conversation. Yet -

“Did you delete the online shogi game?”

“I deleted it in our second year -nanodayo.”

Right. 

Akashi turned to leave the shop, the district and the city, if possible. 

Two more days. He could spend that time in the house library.

“We will beat you, Akashi!”

He looked over his shoulder. Midorima and his best friend wore identical scowls.

“You won’t,” he said.

His rage burned in his veins and boiled his blood. Akashi felt like screaming bloody murder, clawing someone’s face in or punching walls until either it or his hands got destroyed. 

Now that he lost once, he was open game to anyone, huh? Midorima thought it was that easy?

And - and that partnership thing -

That _"Learn the names that will defeat you.”_ thing - 

That defending, moving in sync and trusting thing - 

Akashi’s anger drained, leaving his arms heavy. His forceful steps slowed down as he walked to his train in the metro station. After he found a seat, he closed his eyes and rested his head against the train wall.

He knew Midorima’s competitiveness. Along with basketball, it was in test grades, exam listings and committee responsibilities. In bento box sizes, uniform cleanliness, the number of books they read, how thick that book was, hand-writing prettiness.

The points they scored in a game.

(Akashi always suspected he was Midorima’s reason for becoming a shooter. He reminded himself that Midorima chose his position before Teiko. As much as they could in primary school.)

After all, they befriended each other when Midorima wouldn’t stop bothering Akashi for another shogi game after his defeat.

He never beat Akashi. In any of his (logical or not) competitions. 

Then again, nobody could defeat Akashi either. 

Until he got defeated. By somebody else.

It must frustrate him. 

Akashi huffed; after his defeat, empathizing with his friend who didn’t get to be the lucky one was the least of his concerns. 

Midorima might have seen Akashi as his opponent since the beginning. Akashi had trusted him like a teammate but Midorima trusted him as much as he could to a rival.

Now he knew what Midorima’s belief to a best friend looked like.

(It was a good move. Too risky for Midorima. Even worked on Akashi a few times. Its weak point was clear though.)

He wanted to return to Rakuzan.

Akashi didn’t open his eyes as the train stopped at another stop. They snapped open when he recognized a voice.

“It is c’owded! You sure this is the ‘ight ‘ine, Kise?”

“I have a map-ssu!”

Akashi delved into his bookstore bag and opened his book right in front on his face.

(The magazine was larger, but his father was at its cover.)

Look the other way. Don’t see him. There were many people with red hair in the wagon, anyway.

(None with Akashi’s bright color though.)

He jumped from his seat when at the next station’s announcement -

“Is that Akashicch - "

\- and was the first one out of the train. He delved right into the leaving crowd.

“We wi’ beat you!” The shout cut off when the train doors closed. 

Akashi reached midway of the exit stairs until the train moved. Only after a glance behind showed no familiar faces did he climb down to wait for the next train. 

It wasn’t his stop yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: For all sorts of questions and converstions, feel free to visit my tumblr at gallie-chan.tumblr.com.


	9. The Sleeping Father

By the time he reached home, Akashi was sweaty, disheveled and missing the comfort of their car, as much as he would never mention it to Saito-san.

The front door opened. After Saito-san rose from his bow, he took Akashi’s bookstore bag.

“How was the young master’s trip?”

“It was fine, Saito-san.”

“Would young master want refreshments?”

“Water would be nice, if you could.”

He nodded and walked towards the kitchen.

Akashi waited in the foyer, not wishing to go to the cold dining room with its long table or the huge, unused living room for a glass of water. He didn’t want Saito-san or Maiya-san to climb upstairs for it as well. 

When he returned, Saito-san gave him a strange look but just extended him a glass of water instead of commenting. It was a small glass; Akashi finished it in two gulps. 

He was still thirsty but didn’t want to move Saito-san back and forth. So he thanked Saito-san and gave the glass back.

“Would young master want another glass?”

“No, it was eno - “

“Saito-san! You gave a small glass to young master! It can’t be enough for him!”

Maiya-san pushed an extra large cup to his hands, “drink it up all you want, young master,” she said with a smile before scowling back to Saito-san.

“Young master said it was enough.”

“He is an athlete, how can it quench his thirst?”

“You told me to take a glass from the right cabinet.”

“You went to the furthest right, I meant the middle right!”

“Then say middle right - “

“It is fine,” Akashi interrupted. They straightened up and clasped their hands in front like obedient servants. Maiya-san threw a glare at Saito-san before facing Akashi.

Akashi took a small sip as a demonstration and said, “I will drink the rest in my room, thank you.”

They nodded in unison.

“Did young master go out to buy his father’s magazine? We already had the book in our library.”

“I wanted to buy shirts - “ he trailed off, recalling his audience. He had one second to continue with, ‘but turned out I didn’t need them.’ Except he needed them.

A second ticked away. Akashi held his glass and waited for the show.

“Young master needs clothes?” Maiya-san’s voice got higher with each word. Her eyes scanned Akashi up and down, narrow in concentration. “Shoulders broader, arms thicker,” she murmured. 

“And you only noticed now?” Saito-san hissed before turning to Akashi again, ” What does young master wear here?”

“I had bought stuff in Kyoto - “

Maiya-san gasped in horror. Saito-san glared at Maiya-san.

“Maiya-san! Young master is wearing ready-made garments!”

“It is fi - “

“I am sorry, young master,” she bowed low.

“It is fine Ma - “

“Remedy it Maiya-san!”

“I will remedy it without you telling me, Saito-san!”

“Did you ask young master if any of his wardrobe fits him?”

“You have eyes, Saito-san! His wardrobe wouldn't fit him!”

“Not the whole wardrob - “

“Young master is in growing age. You should have prepared his new clothing, Maiya-san.”

“And how do you expect me to do it without seeing young master with my eyes?” She produced a measuring tape from her apron pocket and moved towards Akashi, still looking daggers at Saito-san.

Akashi took a step back to avoid Maiya-san hitting his glass full of water. “Doesn’t Maiya-san need to prepare dinner?”

She focused on him and blinked. “My chicken!” she gasped and ran to the kitchen.

“The measuring?” Saito-san shouted after her.

“We can do it after the dinner, Saito-san,” Akashi said.

He bowed, “as you wish, young master.”

Akashi nodded and moved towards the stairs. As he was climbing, he heard the kitchen door open. It closed on their bickering.

He allowed himself a smile now he wasn’t in front of the couple. Sometimes, it felt like they were the ones who made this huge estate into a home.

Lighthearted, Akashi walked to his favorite part of the house.

The Akashi household library was vast and amazing. Rows upon rows of books filled the wooden bookshelves, opening to the reading corner of the room. 

Akashi inhaled the wood and paper scent, closing his eyes with a small smile. Even the quiet of this place relaxed him, unlike the tense one of the dining room. 

As he wandered between the shelves, just touching the books, he was at ease for the first time after his arrival in Tokyo. His thoughts about Midorima and his best friend, Kise’s reaction, his overbearing room, his father's conversation with him and Kuroko-san’s dossier disappeared. After his muscles loosened and his furious mind slowed down, he chose a novel he saw at the bookstore.

As he walked to his favorite sofa in the reading area, he read the back cover of the book - the first one of a trilogy. They would occupy him for tonight, and tomorrow, he would start the one he bought today -

He froze. His breath hitched.

His father was lying on his favorite couch. Sleeping.

Akashi saw him sleeping for the first time. 

He didn’t dare to move a muscle. Would he wake him up if he walked back?

In a weekday, work hours, why was his father at home? And sleeping?

Did he have a problem? He wasn’t sick, right?

Akashi crouched, left his book on the floor and crawled to his father. He looked tired. As much as he had no wrinkles at his forehead - those must be his scowling - his cheeks sagged. He had white ones in his five o’clock shadow. 

Father was… 46. Did he have white hair? Or wrinkles? Was it normal? At least, he shouldn't appear worn out, right? His skin also seemed wan. Kinda yellowish.

He didn't have a sickness, right? Right?

Akashi leaned closer. Was his breathing fast? It should be slower in deep sleep, right?

Heart conditions, lung problems, -

And he tolerated Akashi yesterday, even showed kindness. 

Saito-san didn’t insist on riding him today because father stayed at home, right? He was looking after him. 

Father had an illness.

Akashi’s heart constricted.

He didn’t get sick for his disappointment over Akashi’s defeat, right?

Right? 

No. No, no.

Right?

He had to be better, perfect, more - it wasn’t worth if father - 

“Son, what are you doing?”

He jerked back and hit his head to the coffee table. Tea cups jingled on it.

(Father was drinking too much tea these days - was he cold?)

Akashi held the back of his head. Even as he struggled to draw a breath, his eyes wouldn’t leave his father. 

(No, no, not you too.)

Akashi’s expression must have belied his emotions because after a glance, father’s sleepy eyes turned alert. 

“Seijuro, is there a problem?”

“Are you sick?” His voice was high and unsteady.

“What are you talking about?”

“You aren’t working and look tired. And pale. We talked yesterday!” Akashi inhaled a breath, “and you talked with patience. Saito-san didn’t drive me today and - and you were sleeping! In the library.”

“Calm down, son, I am okay.”

“You also drink lots of tea,” his ears rang. The ground seemed to shake under him. 

Father put his hand to Akashi's shoulder. 

Everything stopped. 

The hand was big and warm. 

“I am fine, Seijuro. I don’t have a medical condition I am hiding from you.”

Akashi sagged. Put his head to his father’s knees, closed his eyes and breathed. 

“Why didn’t you go to work today?” he mumbled to his father’s trousers.

“I came early. It was a slow day.”

Father had slow days? He wasn’t lying, right? 

His hands clenched on his father’s trouser leg; it smelled like the leather coach he slept on. Father still held Akashi’s shoulder, with his large mass towering over him.

It felt safe, instead of oppressive, for the first time. 

“Did you think the library was only your favorite room? I got used to sleeping here when you were at Kyoto.” He took his hand from his shoulder and patted Akashi’s head before leaning back. It was Akashi’s signal to release father’s trouser and raise his head. “I even decorated it.”

Akashi followed his eyesight. There was a new cabinet and on it was - 

A shiver ran down his back.

Akashi’s medals and trophies. His only silver medal was at the center.

Father stood up and walked towards it. Akashi knew he wanted him to follow.

His legs refused to move.

They would talk about his defeat.

In a second, his father would look back, see his son still sitting on the ground, between the couch and coffee table, and looking at him with frightened eyes.

He wondered which one was more disappointing - getting defeated or not facing it.

“Come, Seijuro.”

Like walking to gallows, Akashi went to his father. His eyes glanced over all the gold and stuck on the lone silver medal. 

He wanted to annihilate it. Tear it to pieces, liquefy them and pour it down a seaside cliff. Erase it from the existence.

Father put it to Akashi’s palms. His fingertips turned white with pressure around the cold metal. 

“Memorize it, son. Each curve and letter. How it feels in your hands and heart. Never forget its color so you won’t need to see it again.”

He wished to grind the metal with his hands.

“Don’t hate it, Seijuro,” father said as looked at the medal with a fond expression and took it from Akashi’s clenched hands. “It is your most precious medal and deserves its place in the center because it means you gave grown up. We Akashis grow when we get defeated.”

He turned to Akashi, whose heart beat faster while his father’s intense eyes drilled him. 

“I once got defeated too: Fired from my first job. Then I started my company and bought that one five years later.” He leaned forward and put his hand to Akashi’s shoulder. This one was heavy. “Seijuro, I want you to learn from your defeat. Learn the emotion and build up on it. Don’t let it consume you. Get stronger, son.”

He patted his shoulder once and retracted his hand. 

“You weren’t disappointed, father?”

“I was, but it was bound to happen. Better it happens at a young age.”

Akashi tried to swallow - there was something blocking his throat.

(Bound to happen?)

“I will get disappointed if it happens again.”

“It won’t happen again, father.”

“I know.”

——

Akashi rolled his suitcase next to the door and then took Kuroko-san’s dossier from his bedside table again. Since he couldn’t take such a document with him to the school, he aimed to memorize it. Not the first few CV pages that gave his education, certificates or MS Office proficiency - no, Akashi had to learn the references page. The ones that created father’s Kuroko-san image.

“Ambitious, hard-working, sure to come to places,” his intern chef had said.

“Would have hired him full-time if he wasn’t a student. Must consider after graduation,” said one of his part-time working manager.

“Too invisible to successful,” said another one of his part-time managers.

“Takes risks,” his first manager in full-time job had said, “and he sweeps the failed ones under the rug. By the time the team remembers them, he gives another unpredictable decision and we forget the previous one again.”

“He needs money, so he needs to work. His company loyalty is questionable but as long as we give what he needs, he won’t look anywhere else,” the HR manager wrote in the last year’s performance report. “He wants promotions more than anyone else and he gets them. However, his only aim seems to be a higher salary, he doesn’t have a concrete career plan. At this rate, he will be a middle-rank manager within five years and higher-rank within ten, yet he has the potential to leave the company if another offers more money.”

“He is a team player who can also use others as stepping stones,” a project manager said. “Manipulative enough to steer out of small issues within the team and put the blame on others.”

“So delightfully straightforward yet with enough cunning to be a good marketer,” his senior brand manager said. 

“Sure to make employees cry,” a marketing team leader said, “he is a good team player, for the ambitious. Even the weak-willed can success if they stay with him long enough though.”

Another brand manager said, “He got the weakest brand. He is inexperienced and with that brand - seems like they want him to fail. Why does he need to take down a brand with him, weak or not?”

Akashi put the dossier back to his bedside table. He read this part multiple times these three days but he still couldn’t connect the person they described to Assistant Coach Kuroko-san who organized tournaments and rewarded the team ice-cream.

It made Kuroko-san dangerous.

Akashi withdrew from his musings at the sound of Maiya-san and Saito-san’s footsteps (and bickering) coming his way. His time must be up.

They knocked the door; Akashi called them in.

Saito-san went to his suitcase right away as Maiya-san sniffed next to him.

Akashi took a step towards her, concerned. “Is there something wrong, Maiya-san?”

She sniffed again, “three days were so short, young master. We haven’t seen you for a year.”

Saito-san nodded and Maiya-san dabbled her eyes.

Akashi thought three days were more than enough, regardless, he pulled her close and smiled to Saito-san over her shoulder. 

His eyes watering, Saito-san nodded back. Maiya-san gave a loud sob.

Akashi’s smile faded. “What is wrong?”

“You have grown up, young master.”

“You are tall enough to hold me, young master!”

He only got 4 cm tall. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to reach Saito-san, let alone his father.

“You must have gotten shorter, Maiya-san.”

“I did not!” she straightened. Saito-san chuckled.

Akashi let their familiar bickering wash over him. It reminded him home more than anything. Its lighthearted sound turned foreboding in this room though.

“I don’t want to get late.”

The silence was swift and absolute. Saito-san took his suitcase and opened the door for Akashi.

“I can wear your new shirts when you come again, young master,” Maiya-san said as they descended the stairs. 

“You don’t have to work on them, Maiya-san, I will grow up by then.”

“In that case, I will send them to you.”

“There is no need. I wear only my uniform and casual clothes in Kyoto.”

“I will send them to you, young master.”

Akashi looked at her frown and stubborn chin. Was she weeping a minute ago?

“Okay,” he said. She beamed. 

Saito-san put his suitcase to the car trunk. This time, he would drive him only to the train station, instead of Kyoto. Maiya-san wasn’t accompanying them as well.

She preferred to stay at home. Saito-san too.

“Is father fine?”

After a moment’s surprise, they seemed to get brighter. 

“Is young master worried about master?”

“Master is fine, young master.”

“No problems at all, right?”

Their grins faded. Akashi repeated himself.

“Did young master see something?”

“He was sleeping at the library yesterday. He looked tired.”

“Oh, that,” they relaxed. Akashi didn’t. “Master stayed up all night after his conversation with young master. He had also excited himself the previous weeks because young master was coming home. He must have tired himself.”

Who were they talking about? Not his father, surely. 

Akashi nodded but his unease didn’t disappear.

“Look after him.”

“Of course, young master.”

“And tell me if anything is wrong. Any illnesses or similar.”

They brightened again. “Yes, young master!”

Akashi nodded and got into the car.

Time to return to Rakuzan.

Finally.


End file.
